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Chapter Text

Damian was born with a horrendous soulmark on his chest.

In this world where everyone with a soulmate is born with a soulmark that marks the first sentence your soulmate says to you, many, many have expected Damian's soulmark to be something… fancy, gaudy, and pretentious, even.

Like, "Greetings, my Prince of Shadow, I have been summoned to serve you". A classic story of a servant falling in love with their prideful Prince.

Or, "How the moonlight looks beautiful today". Mysterious, romantic, and devastatingly beautiful.

Better yet, "I have come for your head, Damian Al Ghul". The best one yet, enemies to lovers, desperate love found somewhere it's meant to be. Very fitting for someone like Damian.

Something like that.

But then again, nothing is more cruel than fate and love, after all.

Damian was born with a soulmark on his left chest, right on his heart, written in the colour of gold (of course, it is gold).

The soulmark reads.

[Hey, that's my chips!]

Yes.

What an anti-climax. A disappointment, even.

What's the golden colour for, anyway? What is golden about chips? The phrase sounds like it costs no more than 10 cents!

It makes Damian loathe chips with a burning passion since the ripe age of 2 when he learnt of what chips were.

Those cursed thin potato slices with sprinkles of salt and spices.

But there is a bright side to anything. The phrase suggests a very specific scenario where Damian will meet his soulmate, and he shall make use of it. He's an Al Ghul. He shall conquer Fate itself, and it means never eating chips until he finds someone he's interested in? Then so it be.

Of course, that doesn't take into consideration that Fate loves nothing more than a good twist.

The day is the 10th of October. GMT 7+ 21h30. After a successful mission on the Moon.

Robin, or Damian, is standing inside the Watchtower control room. There is a box intricately crafted marble box with golden, unreadable Ancient Greek word carvings in front of him.

Mysterious. Extravagant. Romantic.

A single paper is put on it, it reads "Do not open!!!" with terrible handwriting in crayons, like it belongs to a child.

Whose is it and what's in there? No one knows. And anything a Bat doesn't know, they crave for it like a moth to flame, like a lost boat to a beacon in the dark.

For a second, Damian truly sympathizes with Pandora because why would you not want to open a box with an ominous note that says 'not to open' in front of them?

So he takes it, and after some careful reconsideration of the consequences, he still decides to open it. Curiosity has claimed another soul today, a bat's and not a cat's, but they rhyme, so it should probably still count. God forbids a teenage boy being curious.

"Hey, that's my chips!"

What is the phrase, again? All roads lead to Rome? Certainly. Those who deny Fate will always end up where they are destined to be.

Damian slowly turns around.

"I've never taken you for a chips thief, Robin! Those are like, like- the deluxe kind of chips!!! I even use the anti-stale box to keep those!" A voice speaks to him, low and 'threatening'. It certainly does not belong to anyone below the age of 25.

Right,

Damian raises his head.

Red, gold, and white. The person in front of him is standing tall, taller than most, with the sound of thunder ringing behind every syllable uttered by the man. How could it be? They're in space where no clouds or lightning can exist? But is it time for any logical thoughts when his soulmate is-

Captain Marvel. The Champion of Gods. The Protector of Magic.

How… great. Marvelous. Even.

The man in red continues, "I'm telling Batman you're stealing my chips!"

His soulmate is a fucking man-child. Worse. His father's co-worker. A being that no one is sure whether he is a man, a child, or something else. A being of magic. A puzzle that likes to say the phrase "I choose you, Pikachu!" too much for Damian's taste. To anyone's taste. Really.

Damian slowly closes his eyes in a poor attempt to imagine a future, any future with the man in front of him, and honestly, he sees nothing but a dreadful future waiting for him. Obviously.

What is there to imagine? A life cursed by having a grown man next to him screaming out Anime attacks while being a literal high-profile hero? Damian watched him yelling "Susanoo" very loudly at the villain before conjuring up a blue monster emitting pure blue lightning on live TV last week, and he almost considered murdering the Champion of Magic to preserve the Justice League's reputation. Why would the protector of Magic have an anime phase???

"Hey! Hey! I'm talking to youuuu! Step away from my luxury chips, Robin! Or I'm telling your dad! I'm not bluffing!"

He has been chosen by Fate to be the lead actor in a tragicomedy, and it is worse than having no soulmark at all. At least his mother has never had to suffer this utterly devastating humiliation.

Oh, Gods, Tim Drake is going to laugh him to death, and Jason Todd will bring him back just to continue laughing at him. Dick will spare him the pain, but his silent pity shall be the nail in the coffin for Damian.

"Fate is cruel beyond comprehension," Damian says. Pain laced into every word spoken, like he's a man walking towards a guillotine.

Fate-

The Captain freezes on the spot. Then, he finally registers what Robin has just said, "What?" He breathes out. Confusion crawls up to his handsome face, and then, the paleness of horror, as if every drop of blood has been drawn from his face. "YOU- you are- you are my- my- my-" He doesn't even dare to finish the sentence.

"Captain." Damian calls.

"Well, on a second thought, um- urghhh... You can keep the chips. They're not that much, really. Haha, so, well- Um- I have something to do- So-"

"Turn around," Damian orders. How funny it is how a mere teenager is ordering the Champion of the Gods themselves. But it is funnier how the Champion actually listens, despite the confusion on his face. "Hmm," The teenager takes some time to evaluate, and then he concludes, "I suppose your physical attributes are acceptable."

"What do you even mean by that?" The Champion turns around again to face Damian. Acceptable? Just acceptable? His body was created as the pinnacle of a mortal's physique, a Champion of the people! It's supposed to be perfect!

"Hmm, what is hard to understand?" Damian tilts his head as he eyes the Captain from head to toe, and vaguely points to the Champion's body with his right hand, "The ancient Greeks were worshippers of abundance, and I can see the Gods have built your body with such high standards of beauty."

Abundance… Abundance?

"DID YOU JUST CALL ME FAT?" The Champion jolts up and points at the teenager with a face redder than a tomato.

"Your butt, yes," Damian deadpans. Damian's speaking the truth from his heart. The Gods really have built the Captain well, in all senses possible. Soft, shiny black hair. Vibrant blue eyes that look like they are precious gemstones. A smile that shines bright like it has been blessed by Apollo. And above all, his body is certainly not something a human can achieve—an exquisitely toned body with the perfect touch of softness where it matters, big, strong, but not domineering, but protective and warm.

Even if the personality still has a lot of room to improve, Damian has no complaints about the appearance of his soulmate thus far. Satisfied, even. The teenager would despair if his soulmate turned out to be someone skinny, scrawny, dirty, fragile and in desperate need of protection; he fears that kind of soulmate will only drag him down. Well, nothing can be perfect. Damian feels like he should feel grateful for what he can get, so he adds, "I have no complaints. The Gods have built you well."

But the Captain seems not to appreciate it at all.

"A- you- Robin, you PERVERT!" The Champion yells, and electricity starts going haywire around him, causing the light in the whole Watchtower to flicker. Mind you, this is a billion-dollar space station in space, and a single second of lost electricity is enough for some mortal heroes in this place to go pale with fright.

Not Damian, though.

"Why are you mad? I am complimenting you." Please forgive the boy, he's just a teenager, after all. This is no way a 'boys will be boys' kind of excuse. It's just that Damian genuinely believes the Champion of Greek Gods would like some compliments to his butt. Aren't big butts a sign of a good physique? Of fertility and abundance? That you are blessed by the Gods? Did Zeus not purposely build him that way to show off their pantheon's ideals of "beauty"? That a Champion chosen by the Gods are beautiful both on the inside (which is obvious, since Captain Marvel's a hero) and the outside?

In Damian's mind, he's basically saying, "Your beauty has truly come from the hands of the Gods. They have made you with love." But too bad, as it has been stated, he's a teenage boy, and every compliment coming out of a teenage boy has a 67% percent of being "Nice butt." It's a medical condition that comes with puberty (It's not).

"You- I do NOT appreciate your compliments, Robin! You're- you're so vulgar! I'm telling Batman!" Does the Champion know how to curse? Unlikely, no one has heard him say a single bad word before; he's the hero of children, after all.

"Are you sure?"

"I- Why would I be not sure?"

Damian, again, vaguely gestures the Champion from head to toes, "Are you sure you want to tell my father about us? Right now?"

Silence consumes the room.

"…" Solomon seems to be speaking to the Champion of Gods.

After a short pause, Marvel finally speaks again, "I hate you, Robin."

"I do not think that is true, considering-"

"Considering what?"

"WOAJFDKGHHH! OH HERA!" The Captain, despite having the courage of Achilles, gets spooked and almost flings himself out of the Watchtower's window, which is Superman-proof but not magic-proof.

"Father," Damian nods.

"What is happening here?" Batman walks into the room with suspicious eyes; the 1-second power cutoff must've alarmed him.

"Nothing, father, we're talking about Captain Marvel's chips."

"Chips?"

"Yes- um- my- my chips, yes- I put them in the- the-box-" The Captain tries to talk, but he's clearly, very clearly frightened and lying, which makes Damian want to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"He puts it in a very suspicious-looking box. I wanted to check it, and he called me a chips thief," Damian explains.

"Right! The anti-stale box!" Some clarity dawns on the grown man's face. "I thought he wanted to steal my chips!"

Batman can smell some falsity floating in the air, but he refrains from exposing the two of them. After all, Damian is still a teenager (a dangerous one, but still), and the Captain is a child-like being that runs on nothing but goodness. What's the worst thing that they can lie to him about? Breaking Tim's Switch 2? Very likely.

"Explain your anti-stale box," The Batman sighs and gives them an easy way out.

"Oh, right! My anti-stale chips box! It is basically a mini-pocket dimension where time doesn't move, so anything you put in there will stay exactly as it is, even after a millennium!" Marvel excitedly explains, "It was once used to store the heart of an immortal King's dead wife after she had passed, but I already united them in Elysium, so he gave permission to use it to store chips!"

…

"What? You put your chips in an ORGAN STORAGE BOX?" Damian cannot believe what he is hearing as he snaps his head towards the Champion of Magic.

"I CLEANED IT! It's fine! It doesn't smell like blood anymore!!!" The Champion barks back.

"Why don't you just eat all of your chips like any other person instead of storing them in a box that used to smell like blood?" Damian asks with disbelief in his voice.

"It's HONEY BUTTERED-FLAVORED! It's imported from Korea! It's very expensive! It's like! 5 dollars a bag! I don't want to eat expensive but stale chips!"

"Why don't you put it in a container?" Batman chimes in.

"… I'm not allowed to use containers for snacks," The Captain looks dejected. It's true, but who gets to forbid the Mightiest Mortal from using containers for snacks?

"Fine," Damian throws his hands up, "I will buy you more honey butter chips! Tt!"

"You will?" The Captain yells, his eyes sparkle, and if he were a dog, his tail would definitely be wagging like crazy.

"It's my responsibility to provide for my-"

They both freeze under the intensifying gaze of Batman.

Damian coughs, correcting his mistake, "-my father's co-worker."

Wait.

Why would a teenager be responsible for providing for his father's co-worker again?

Even Batman is confused.

But it's just better to drown out a mistake with more mistakes, "Do your sister and your friend want some honey butter flavoured chips, as well?"

"YES! You have no idea how much we fight over it! We even have to divide the number of chips in a bag equally! Piece by piece!"

"That sounds plausible. Very well, tell me whenever you all crave those chips and I shall fulfil my promise." Damian nods, "Father, the commotion has been resolved. You can see I am clearly not a chip thief."

"I have never thought that…" Batman answers. Why would Damian steal chips? He has never eaten a piece of chips in his life. And they are billionaires? Also, Bruce isn't even sure whether he owns the company that manufactures those chips or not. "And I need your help with the battle reevaluation, Robin."

"Very well." Damian pats the Captain on his arms before turning his heels to walk towards his father. "I will see you later in Fawcett City, Captain."

"This weekend, Saturday, 3 p.m." Before the duo walks out of the room, Damian turns his head around to look at the Captain once more and says, "Come get the chips alone."

What?

The Captain almost blurts out the question of "Is that a date?" but luckily, Solomon can hold the child back from making a horrid mistake in front of Batman.

"Why are you smiling, Damian?" Batman asks as he walks side by side with his son. "Do you find the Captain that entertaining?"

"I do, father,"

"Don't tease him too much,"

"I won't, father."

"You don't sound trustworthy."

Chapter Text

"What's wrong with Damian lately?"

That is certainly a vague question to ask, after what is NOT wrong with a teenager? An ex-assassin, vigilante, child prodigy, practically a prince kind of teenager, nonetheless? There are just so many things wrong with Damian on a daily basis already, but-

There's something especially wrong. Out of the ordinary wrong. 

He spaces out during missions; he is suddenly very interested in magic, ancient Greek Gods; he giggles to himself out of nowhere sometimes. The last part is the most concerning because Damian doesn't just smile for no reason, let alone giggle with a reddened face.

Okay, teenage boys. A crush on some girls, some boys, someone, maybe? Possible.

It's not like Damian has never had any interest in anyone; it's just that he's a hopeless romantic to the core—like his father—that he has terminated any attractions he has had with anyone not his soulmate.

Dick sometimes thinks it is ridiculous how Damian has a better chance of having a pretty girl yell "Damian Al Ghul, you have killed my father, prepare to die!" than having anyone at all tell him "Hey! That's my chips!" the first time they meet. Dick is saddened by it sometimes.

To which, Damian assures him, "It is better to wait for the perfect person, instead of wasting time on those that are not worth it".

What a mature thing for a teenager to say.

So that makes it even weirder when-

"I just think that people shouldn't even have a list of 'hottest vigilante' in the first place! It's very objectifying?!" Dick argues.

It's another typical Friday night that is not the end of the world, fortunately. All the kids are gathering around, playing some games, chatting a bit, and enjoying each other's company in general. Even Jason joins today.

And apparently, Jason's salty that Nightwing charts above him in the most recent list of "Hottest Vigilante ever". Like, come on, Nightwing has been dominating the chart for years before Jason even hit puberty!

The kid just gained his height, and he thinks he's the hottest thing in America somehow. Urgh. The audacity of a 6'4 man.

"You say that, but I know you are always secretly salty whenever you drop out of the top 3," Steph adds.

"Yeah, last year, Minhkhoa Khan charted 2nd, and you got so offended by that you told Bruce to punch him up in the face extra hard. We all knew." Duke casually says from the comfort of his beanbag.

"He- I did NOT!"

"Pfft, you did, I got the receipts." Tim raises his head from this laptop, a smirk on his face. "Photos. Videos. Recordings. 3 angels minimum."

"Honestly, you are only considered 'hot' because of your butt, Dick." Jason, the main contender this quarter (who is in 6th place right now), snorts as he points vaguely at Dick's behind—the infamous Jim and Juan—and speaks, "Times change, unc. Get Jim and Juan out of here! People prefer thighs now! And man-boobs! I am CLEARLY hotter."

"Don't you dare disrespect my Jim and Juan like that again!"

Some groans are heard in the room. What is even the conversation anymore? Why are the two eldest fighting about which one is hotter?

Damian usually doesn't join these kinds of conversations; he finds them meaningless and vulgar. Of course, the kid's type should be something more sophisticated, one assumes—someone pretty but not sensual, someone who is wise beyond their years, and someone who is dangerous.

Instead, the teenager who has never joined in any type of vulgar conversation casually raises his head and says, "If one is allowed to have it all, he wouldn't bother having preferences at all."

…

"… What do you mean by that, Damian?" Jason asks, terror in his voice.

"What is hard to understand?" Damian flips another page of the comic he's reading, eyebrows slightly knitted together, "I, myself, would choose a worthy mate who does not lack in any aspects."

"… Do you mean you like butts, thighs AND boobs, altogether?" Dick questions, his voice shaken.

Damian finally lifts his eyes from the childish comic he's holding and answers, with confidence, "Do not underestimate me, Richard. I also have high standards for facial beauty and bone structures."

…

The realization slowly dawns on the other teenagers- scratch that, all have grown out of their teenage-horny years, all except Damian.

And now, the horde of adults in the room is faced with the horrid fact that they have been trying to bury at the back of their mind. The horrid, dreadful, inevitable truth.

Damian is 16.

Oh no.

Fear consumes them all.

Eh, mostly just Dick. The rest takes approximately 2 seconds to get used to the new fact that they can, now, make dirty jokes around Damian.

"I can't believe-" Dick chokes on his own sadness, "You were so little-"

Only to be cut off by, literally, anyone else.

"Well, I'll be damned!" Jason blurts out.

"Your greed sickens me," Steph speaks, after a difficult pause, she then continues, "You CANNOT have it all. No one has all face, butts and boobs! AND THIGHS!"

"I can," Damian argues. Of course, he can; his soulmate is literally shaped by the Gods themselves. Greek Gods! The Gods who are obsessed with beauty! And who is Damian if not one of the best humanity can offer? He can certainly demand to be matched with someone made by the Gods!

"What about something more specific?" Duke places a plausible question on the table, "Have we considered that person's personality and morality, yet?"

"Alive, too," Jason adds.

Dick still cries, but he finally rejoins the conversation, "And if they're already married? Some don't wait for their soulmate, or worse, some just ignore their soulmarks altogether."

"Well, if you include personality, morality, AND availability, then no," Tim rolls his eyes, participating in the conversation with barely any interest. He's a fresh adult and an ex-teenager; no one understands the greed a teenager has than him. "Impossible."

Damian clicks his tongue, "How can all of you be so sure? Jason does not even have a soulmate!"

"Why the fuck am I getting attacked?" Jason throws his hands up, "Seriously, I know you're young and stupid, but no one can be perfect, especially perfect for us. Okay? You just have to settle sometimes."

Damian frowns.

That means he's thinking whether he should just let the cat out of the bag and boast about his soulmate or not.

The urge is burning him alive.

His soulmate is fucking Captain Marvel. The protector of magic. The Champion of Gods. The Mightiest Mortal. The harbinger of the Living Lightning.

Hah, Damian thinks proudly of himself, of course, his soulmate has to be someone of such grandeur.

Looks? Perfect. That includes any other physical criteria, be it butts or boobs. Frankly, Damian even prefers how Captain's body is not just pure rock-hard muscles like his father's; The Captain's body looks rather plump, soft, and warm, like a big teddy bear, or a big tiger.

Morality? Also perfect. Certified uncorruptable. His father has made many mistakes of falling in love with those who walk on the thin line of morality, and he has paid for it by sleeping with one eye open every night; Damian shall never accept such a life.

Power? Immaculate. He's one of the heavy-hitters of the League. Not many can rival him in his expertise, magic, which is a talent that the Bat family lacks.

Availability? Captain has absolutely no dating records as of now, and Damian finds it delightful. He's a loyal person; it is natural that he also prefers his soulmate to be hyper-aware of their fateful bond with him.

The only thing left to consider is the Captain's personality, which is off-putting at first, but that is to be evaluated tomorrow, on Saturday.

Damian has decided to be open-minded, and he finds his own patience towards his soulmate something the Captain should be grateful for.

After 2.3 seconds of careful consideration, Damian has decided that it is not the time to boast about his soulmate to the vultures that are his siblings. After all, his mother has taught him that love is sacred and love should be held closer to one's heart, not on one's mouth.

So Damian decides to settle for a simple answer: "It is possible, you imbeciles are just not worthy enough for someone like that."

The room pauses for a few seconds before rupturing into several curses and insults.

Only one person is still calm despite it all. She carefully eyes Damian.

Damn, Damian curses in his mind, as he tries to turn away before she can catch any hints of whatever he's thinking. But he should've known better. He cannot escape those dark eyes that pry into one's soul like a wolf splitting the ribcage of its dead prey.

Cass places her fork down and gives Damian a bright smile to signal the young teenager a single message that is, frankly, as wholesome as it is concerningly invasive.

Congrats, Damian!

Urgh, Damian groans. He decides to bury his face into the comic book again. His ears reddened with embarrassment.

Thankfully, Cass is not the nosy type like the rest of the Bats. Not in the love department, anyway. But Damian has faith that Cass will give him some peace and privacy before he can be ready to tell the rest of them.

That is only possible when she does not know who his soulmate is, though.

The moment Cass knows it's a grown man who is Batman's colleague, then Damian is better off being boiled alive in a cauldron.

For now, Damian decides to settle on bribing Cass with some sweets so she won't spill the beans too soon.

The road to Fawcett City does not take very long. 197km/h. 3.5 hours.

Damian's bike starts at 8 in the morning.

A backpack full of chips and nothing else. Just enough time to think. And a teenage desire to know more. They always want to know more.

What does the Captain like for breakfast? Does he like animals? And what does he think about cows?

He has never cared for Captain Marvel before. Is it a self-fulfilled prophecy? Perhaps. But Damian does not care. Nothing is more exciting to a hopeless romantic teenager than the concept of a soulmate—Someone who will look at you like you hung the moon and stars, someone who will love you despite how broken and flawed you are, someone who's yours and yours alone.

Damian cannot help but grin like a maniac thinking about it, about Captain Marvel, about their future together. He wonders whether the Captain's hair is soft under his fingers, and whether the Captain's reddened skin will be hot to his touch.

The Champion of Gods?

Damian recalls the startled face of the Mightiest mortal, and a laugh escapes him.

Damian parks his bike in a hidden Batcave 20-minute walk away from Fawcett City.

Fawcett City. Bright. Peaceful. Full of smiles and magic. Is it the City that embodies the spirit of their beloved heroes, or is it its heroes that represent this City? No one knows. They just know the first hero of the City appeared out of nowhere 3 years ago, with a smile and lightning striking behind him, ready to protect, to serve and to spread his contagious laughter. How admirable.

But Damian finds the city rather off-putting; it is just too perfect for him. For the teenager who has grown up in gruesome blood and tar, this City seems like a Wonderland, and he's following a rabbit down a hole.

Nothing is perfect, after all. Damian tells himself.

Damian sighs, the things he does for love.

Soon, Damian finds an old building with not much traffic around—perfect to be seen, but not to be known.

The next thing Damian should do is to make sure Captain Marvel is operating, flying through the sky with a smile on his face—He is.

The final step is seeing if any villain is having a plan to mess things up today.

There's none.

Perfect.

Damian stands at the top of a building in the middle of a city, one foot already on the edge. The wind is cold, despite how sunny that day is.

Damian looks up, his voice firm and determined. Then, he yells, "I AM SO DEPRESSED. I WANT TO DIE." With a completely blank face. A classic case of a damsel in distress trope with a twist.

Count, 1. 2. 3.

After precisely 3 seconds, enough for Captain Marvel to take notice and find his exact location—Damian calculates—he takes a step back, a single step, before throwing himself down the building.

Except that he does not have equipment on him today. The bird does not bear any feathers. He would die a gruesome death if his soulmate did not appear to save him.

The gap between him and a certain death is 3.85 seconds.

And his soulmate.

"You! Why are you jumping off a building? Do you really want to die??? HEY!?"

A red line can be seen across the sky, coming straight at Damian.

Damian smirks.

Fortunately, Robin does not meet his end today; his whole body is embraced safely in the two strong arms of his one and only soulmate. Despite looking so big and intimidating, the body made from pure magic is surprisingly soft and warm. Damian realises the Captain smells like apricot and osmanthus wine, with a subtle hint of sweet spring floral. Such a scent evokes a certain feeling of an old time where Gods were walking among men.

How… soothing, Damian thinks.

Such a weird thing to think when Damian's head is 3 meters away from the ground below. And of course, unlike the indestructible Captain, he's made of flesh and blood, but Damian has not even blinked once.

He has high hopes for someone Destiny has reserved for him and him alone, after all. The man should be able to do at least this. It is safe to say the Faith he has is not placed upon the Captain, but himself.

"Are you alright?" The Big Red Cheese—such a dumb nickname for someone so powerful, Damian thinks—asks, worry reeks off his voice. "You- What if I'm not here? That was very stupid! Don't do it again!"

Damian blinks, finally, "Captain Marvel?"

"Worry not, for I am here! Hahaha!" Another childish joke! Damian rolls his eyes. The bigger man then gives Damian the smile that may be the brightest smile to ever exist, which annoys Damian because he thinks his soulmate shouldn't go around smiling at people that sweetly all the time "But seriously, who else do you think I am, boy?"

"My soulmate, of course," Damian says, as he opens his white shirt, revealing the horrendous soulmark that reads "Hey! Those are my chips!" inked into his skin in gold—extravagant, breathtaking gold.

"You- wait-"

Instantly, the Champion of Magic feels a heavy grip on the golden chain collaring his neck as the ruthless teenager drags him down to whisper into his ears, "If you dare to drop me down and run right now, I will tell my father you're molesting me."

Ah-

Heck-

Solomon whispers into the Captain's ears with the wisdom of a man of old, "One must remind you that Fate has chosen an interesting boy as your soulmate."

Translation: [I told you he's going to be troublesome]

Another God chimes in, it's Achilles, "One shall expect no less from the son of the man of Bat."

Translation: "That's Batman's son. What do you expect?"

Another voice is sung, deep, and hoarse—it belongs to Hercules, "One shall grant you his strength to strangle this treacherous and daring youth before he can pose any threats to our Champion."

Translation: [Snap his neck!]

Alright- NO!

The Captain, of course, logically, lets out an estranged laugh as he slowly descends to the ground, hands still holding onto Damian firmly, not daring to let go, or put any more strength to his grip, "Haha… um… let's get you down first…"

"No," Damian orders, still not letting go of the Captain's golden chain, he adds, "Go somewhere private."

The captain hesitates. Damian guesses it's because it is the supposedly wise Champion's first 'date' and the man does not know what to do, yet.

So, Damian gives him a tip, "I like tigers. I heard you have a talking tiger. Take me to him."

Captain Marvel frowns, before floating slowly into the air, away from the busy street below, away from prying eyes and ears, "You- You haven't even asked whether I'm down to hang! Or- to- to- even date!"

Damian huffs, he tilts his head to eye the Captain's sharp face features—such a beauty—before letting out a sigh, "We're soulmates. Is there any point in prolonging the process?"

"I- STILL! You don't know me yet! I don't know you!" The Captain shakes his head strongly, and his whole body even sways with him in the air, "I said- I didn't even agree to date you yet! You can't just stroll into Fawcett City, jump off a building, and tell me to bring you to Tawky Tawny for a date!"

Damian blinks at him, slowly, like a cat, then he answers, "You named your talking tiger Tawky Tawny? Are you 10?"

"Well, when I first met him, I was 10- That's NOT the point!" The Captain yells, instantly, the rumbling sound of lightnings manifesting in the clouds can be heard in the sky. "You- We're NOT dating!"

"Yet." Damian truly doesn't understand what the Captain is making a fuss about. They're soulmates. Of course, they will be together in the future; it's meant to be.

"Argh! You're JUST like BATMAN!"

"I'm his son. It counts as a compliment."

"That's not the point! Like-" The Captain, once again, groans. His eyes are tightly shut, and his face has begun to redden out of frustration. "You're like, so unlikeable!"

It amuses Damian greatly. It's like talking to a grumpy orange cat. Except that the cat is 6' tall, and is currently one of the strongest magic users living on the soil of mankind. How cute.

Maybe the Captain likes some affectionate courting first. He's supposedly a Champion of the ancient Gods of all.

"Do you want chips? I brought them."

"Do you think I can be bribed with just chips?! I am THE mightiest mortal! I can buy my own chips!"

"I brought exclusive flavours, as well."

"… What flavours?"

"The exclusive kind that has not been out yet. Pistachio and Mont Blanc."

"NO WAY!" The Captain's face lights up like a lightbulb.

The funny thing is-

The company that manufactured those chips does belong, not to his father, but to his mother, instead, as a money-making tool for the League of Shadow.

So naturally, it belongs to Damian. Ha.

The Fawcett zoo is quite small compared to what Damian is used to, but then again, what Damian is used to is called a "sanctuary", not a "zoo". The animals seem to be well-taken care of and are in good shape, so Damian is partially satisfied.

However, the Captain, despite being the City's hero, does not take him into the zoo through the front door in broad daylight. Rather, he chooses to cast an invisible spell onto them both and guides Damian to break into the zoo for no reason at all.

"Why are you forcing me to behave like a lowly thief, right now?" Damian expresses his annoyance, but he still follows the Captain, anyway.

The Captain jolts up and clumsily shushes him, pushing back into a bush, "Don't talk! The zookeepers can hear you!"

Damian glares at the Captain with disbelief. Does Marvel even know who he is talking to? Damian is ROBIN! He doesn't even need an invisible spell to break into such a loosely guarded zoo!

"It's not good to abuse your power!" The Captain—not aware of Damian's thoughts—quickly picks up the teenager and darts for his life through an open path as he confirms the zookeepers have turned away.

Damian wants to strangle his soulmate right now. And maybe cutting up the Mightiest mortal's brain to see what's going on in there.

He literally has the Speed of Hermes? Why is he running on foot like this?

Damian sighs as he repeats the mantra of "No one is perfect" in his mind.

Fortunately, they have reached the tiger enclosure. And of course, the man who can fly above the nine layers of cloud is trying to climb over the fence like a kid trying to skip school.

No one is perfect. No one is perfect. No one is perfect. Damian reminds himself.

"Alright! I'm in!" The Captain whispers into his makeshift walkie-talkie like he's in a spy movie. Is this the meaning of everything thus far? Because he wants to play a spy movie? Damian will be damned if that is true, which he believes is at least 50% correct. "Okay Robin- WOAH!"

The Captain yelps as he sees Damian flawlessly jump over the 2-meter-high fence with absolute ease.

"Damn it! How are you so cool?" Captain Marvel, quite literally, marvels at him like a little kid. "I cannot believe I'm getting out-aura farmed on my own turf right now, chat! It's so unfair!"

Damian knows what "aurafarm" is, and he refuses to acknowledge the grown man's sentence in any way or how he, himself, knows it.

"Okay, come here, come here! There's a corner that the CCTV cannot reach, Tawky is usually there!" The Captain, once again, rolls around like he's in some spy movie, with no grace in his movement at all. Damian just casually follows him. They are currently invisible, Damian cannot stress this enough. "Tawky usually doesn't like visitors much. He's an introvert! But he's very nice, don't worry!" The Captain explains as he excitedly skips forward. Damian nods. Tigers are fundamentally solitary creatures, after all.

The enclosure is rather big for a single tiger, but the Captain has not lied when he said his tiger would be hiding in a corner, behind some high rocks that serve as a wall covering the tiger from prying eyes. When Captain knows for certain he's hidden away from the CCTV, the spell he has cast begins to fade, revealing the grown man and the teenager following right behind.

"Tawky!" The Captain yells, and instantly, there's some rumbling noises answering back to him. From behind the high rocks, a big tiger slowly walks out—calm, and certainly domineering, as all tigers are. The thing that shocks Damian a little bit is how its physical attributes seem to still be at its peak; its body is lean and muscular; its fur is smooth, bright, and shiny; oh, and of course, the claws are still there, ready to maim another living being.

Tawky gives the Captain a knowing look before glaring at Damian with caution. A low roar of warning can be heard.

The tiger has, Damian presumes, not been subjected to the harsh and dangerous life in nature for years, but it has not lost the sharpness in its eyes—The eyes of a predator, a protective one, at that.

A question crosses Damian's mind: Can he win over a tiger? Oh, well- Why is he asking himself, anyway? Of fucking course he can.

"Hello, Tawky Tawny, I have heard a lot about you," 'read' to be more exact, "I'm Robin. I'm your Captain's soulmate."

Damian grins with nothing but confidence. What a bold statement.

The fire in the tier's eyes only burns brighter. He takes a step back and looks up at Captain Marvel, who's VERY red right now. Damian wonders if the term 'Big Red Cheese" comes from his clothes or his tendency to blush profusely. The two seem to be having a mind conversation, then, the tiger lets out a disgruntled huff and turns his body around, his tail sways in the air, signalling a certain… 'acceptance'.

The Captain then turns to Damian and waves at him, "Tawky said you looked decent! And that he still doesn't get the concept of soulmate, but still- You can come hang out with us behind the rocks!"

"Naturally," Damian nods. Of course, he is decent. He's a whole lot better than decent, even.

The rest of the evening goes on quite… normal. As normal as a grown man, a teenager, and a tiger hanging out in secret can be. Tawky seems to be very pleased with the beef jerky Damian brought him, while the Captain is beyond happy with the endless exclusive chips Damian gives him. He keeps taking pictures with them, to show his friend and sister, maybe? Probably. The family is certainly easy to bribe with food, above all else, which makes Damian concerned.

But then again-

"Does Tawky not want to talk to me?" Damian flat-out asks, a little disappointment in his voice. Anyone is allowed to be a little disappointed if the "talking tiger" is not talking to you, after all.

Seeing the Robin being upset, Marvel lets out a sigh and nudges the tiger curling next to him a little, "Don't be like that, Tawky. He gave you beef jerky!"

The tiger side-eyes the Captain and shifts its posture to be more engaging in the conversation, just a little bit, before saying, "I do not own this boy any entertainment." His voice is, unsurprisingly, according to Damian, low, hoarse, and manly—just like how you imagine a tiger's voice would be.

"Well, you eat the beefy jerky, and I have no money to pay him back!" The Captain folds his arms and puffs out his cheeks, which looks really cute to Damian, " Sing a song! Or just at least say thank you, would you?"

Then the Captain turns to Damian and tells him, guiltily, "I'm sorry, he's usually not this moody! He's very friendly, I promise! I don't know, he must be having a stomachache right now!"

The tiger protests, "I am not."

"After 10 packs of free beef jerky, you will!"

Damian looks at the Captain, and then the tiger, back to the captain, and he lets out a little laugh. The two other figures both turn to him. The Captain asks, "What's funny?"

"No," Damian scoffs, "I just think his temperament is no better than Alfred the Cat, my cat. It seems to me cats are all the same, no matter how big or small."

"I am no ordinary feline, boy," The tiger lets out a warning, but Damian doesn't care much. He has read the files. Tawky is no stronger than a normal tiger if he does not receive 'blessings' from the Captain, and what are normal tigers if not bigger cats to Damian? He could defeat them already at the age of 7.

"Do you like tuna?"

"…You are shamelessly bribing me," The tiger answers, but his tail is rising, waving in the air; he is intrigued.

"I will bring you some tuna the next time I visit. The fresh kind, not canned tuna." The usual thing Alfred the Cat gets to eat.

"Hmm," The tiger lets out a huffing noise, signalling annoyance, but again, his tail is still swaying. He then stands up and turns to the Captain, who's trying to make himself as small as possible in the middle. They are doing telepathic communication again. Damian wonders what the tiger is telling the Captain.

Marvel, after looking rather troubled, nods and pets the tiger's soft head as he smiles, "It's alright, Tawky. He's very good! He just looks a little intimidating!"

Damian frowns.

The Captain then says to Damian, the bright smile still lingers on his lips like the warmth of the sun on the sand after Dusk, "Tawky says you're a troublesome lad. But it's alright. I know you're a good person, Robin."

How warm. And welcoming. Damian thinks. Before he can help it, Damian utters, "It's Damian."

The Captain blinks at him.

"My name's Damian Wayne."

There is no point in trying to hide your name from your soulmate, Damian knows that. But then again, one cannot simply get rid of his habit of hiding his identity in one or two days. And despite that, Damian feels… displeased with the way the Captain calls him Robin. Robin? Robin is many things—a mantle, a curse, a liability, a tool—but not his name. And as 'Robin' rolls off the Captain's tongue, Damian feels a bubbling fire in his heart that urges him to speak out his true name, in a random zoo, faraway from home, behind some fake rocks, in the middle of a meaningless conversation. There are no explosions or monsters in the background. There are no threats that can end the world. And there's no reason behind the reveal, at all.

How anti-climactic, but Damian cannot help it.

He wants Captain to call his name. Not 'Robin', not 'son of Batman', not any name shared among many more, just his name, and his name alone.

It is a start to something—Damian can feel it.

But for now, a name is enough.

"Damian?" The Captain calls out his name. And the thirst inside Damian's stomach seems to subside for a moment.

"Yes,"

"Alright…Damian?"

And Damian smiles, a little, as much as a moody teenager can, anyway.

"Say it again."

"Damian. Damian Wayne?" The Captain nods, still sitting on his butt, one hand petting an oversized cat in his lap, and the other hand holding a half-eaten bag of chips. It is a strange sight, for a big, grown man—let alone a revered hero of ancient Gods—to behave so much child-like, but Damian, somehow, has now found it rather suitable. So he does what his heart tells him to do. "Ah! What are you doing?" The Captain yelps as the teenager stands up just to pet him on the head. Agressively.

His shiny, perfectly-combed head! The Captain tries to wiggle away, but it is futile. His hair is now all messed up. Mind you, his hair barely moved when Black Adam threw him through a mountain!

"Tawky won't let me pet him, so I'm taking the debt from you, instead." Damian casually answers as he grits his teeth.

Is this cuteness aggression? Maybe.

"No! Argh!" The Captain falls on his back and starts to crawl away from the Robin. The tiger seems… rather amused by the sight; he huffs and sighs, and goes right back to gnawing on his beef jerky, "Stop that! Stop that! I'm telling Batman!"

"He's my dad. He would be on my side." Damian finally stops, but he just feels not enough, considering how the Captain's hair is all fluffy and pointing in all directions, now. He looks like a cuddly bear to Damian.

"Then I'm telling Green Lantern!"

"He's off-world. You have no allies left."

"I have my sister and my friend!"

"Considering how easy you are to bribe, I presume they are the same."

… Heck, that's true. Damian wouldn't even need bags and bags of chips; he just needs exactly one half-eaten chip for those two to sell him out.

"I hate that you're right." The Captain sits up straight, his reddened cheeks puffing out like an oversized puffer fish. This puffer fish also knows how to zap people, by the way. But that's besides the point. Damian sits back down and stares at the Captain, eye to eye, forest green to deep blue.

Damian thinks the Captain's eye colour is delightful. Like the colour of the sky during the Winter. The Captain's blessed by the God of the vast blueness above, after all.

Damian pinches the Captain's cheeks, which are surprisingly very soft, and says, "You are so easily bribed and tricked. Naive. Unable to lie. A terrible negotiator. My father would skin you alive. And mother will eat you til there're only bones left. How can you survive being my mate?"

The Captain frowns and turns away, effectively preventing Damian from playing with his cheeks any longer, "You talk like I want to be your mate in the first place!" He's pouting. Damian snorts.

"Listen to me very carefully," Damian suddenly orders, "For our relationship to work, you need to follow my terms and conditions or else my parents and siblings will hunt you down and terminate you. Is that clear?"

"But I- We're not even in a relationship!" The Captain protests. "I am- You are… You are like, 16!" There's some hint of hesitation behind the Captain's words, but Damian pays it no mind.

"You are my soulmate. And I am yours. Does it matter in the end? All roads lead to Rome, after all," Damian points out.

"But- Like- Shouldn't we, like- get to know each other, first?"

"What do you think I am doing in Fawcett City?" Damian points out.

"… Ah!" Realization dawns on the Captain's face; despite being blessed with Solomon's wisdom, the Captain seems to have no regard for the old scholar's advice anyway; Damian can see that.

"So listen to me very carefully, Captain Marvel," Damian pulls out a tiny piece of paper to give the grown man sitting crossed-legged like a child in front of him. "There will be some main rules you need to follow to a tee. Read it carefully."

First, and most importantly, Captain Marvel shall never initiate any physical contact with Damian, and any kind of physical contact will need to be on Damian's terms. Of course, this does not apply on the battlefield, like carrying Damian to safety or anything else of the same nature.

The first rule is… understandable, but it still makes Marvel irritated, "I'm not a creep!" He defends himself, but Damian just subtly tells him to continue.

The second rule states that Captain Marvel must not speak of their relationship to anyone who associates with Batman, Robin, and the organization called the League of Assassins.

That is easy, Marvel doesn't even want to have Robin as his soulmate from the get-go!

The third rule states that the Captain cannot, in any way, shape or form, run away from his duty as Damian's soulmate. He cannot ghost Damian. He cannot say that he has no soulmate (just say 'It's private'). And the most important of all, Captain Marvel CANNOT flirt with anyone else. Or responding to anyone's advances with enthusiasm.

"Hey! It's unfair! Why do you put so many rules on me? What about you?" The Captain throws up his hands, upset. He has, unfortunately, missed the point completely that he should've thrown the rules out the window from the start, instead of complaining that there are too many rules.

"Naturally, I will never shy away from performing my duties to you, as well," Damian nods. "I shall provide for you whatever you need. I shall protect you with my life. And of course, I shall never have eyes for anyone else but you. I am yours just as much as you are mine."

"That-"

Okay. That certainly can make even a grown man red with embarrassment and appreciation.

But Damian even adds more, "If you ever find me betraying my vow to you, you shall have my head on a plate to offer to your Gods."

Now, that's just over the top. But-

"That's too much, I would never want to kill you." The Captain shyly answers, with his face turned away from Damian's fiercely green eyes, which are looking straight at him with no hesitation whatsoever. Damian can see his ears are as red as a tomato, and of course, he finds the captain rather cute. Very cute.

So Damian's hand finds its way to the Captain's hair, again. For some reason, Damian feels like he's talking to someone who is younger than him. Maybe it's the naiveté. Maybe it's the incorruptible heart that has endured hell. Maybe it's the innocent mind that has survived condemnation from the Gods. Doesn't matter. Damian just wants to keep the grown man forever child-like and hopeful like this.

"You have my words. May your Gods strike me if I ever fail you."

What can the Captain say?

That is a statement bolder than most the Captain has heard in his life.

A promise of unwavering loyalty. Not just love. Because 'love' sounds too light, too fleeting to Damian. Loyalty. Because after tragedies and losses, love can fade, but not loyalty, and not the sense of ache that plagues your heart whenever your loved ones are hurt.

That is the same as promising someone your heart. And in Damian's case, someone he has not known yet. But he still does it, anyway.

In a way, Damian is a hopeless romantic, just as much as his mother, after all.

Such blind faith in Fate and Love. He calls the Captain naive, not knowing he's the true foolish one here.

The sky has no dark clouds, but the sound of lightning rumbling can be heard.

Is it the Captain's doing? Or the Gods' opinions of the declaration being sung? No one knows. Not Damian, certainly, he is a mere human.

But the Gods must not be displeased, it seems, for the Captain leans into Damian's touch, and he looks up at Damian with his sky-blue eyes that look almost too big, "I- I don't know how to respond… You don't know me yet, how can you be so sure you'll be… you'll like… me? What if I am not what you think I am?"

Damian huffs and answers, "I have known enough."

"But… you haven't." The Captain's eyes slowly blink. Such vibrant blue eyes. There are many shades of emotions behind them, a tad bit of sadness, perhaps, a little confusion, hesitation, and maybe guilt. The Champion of Magic, who marvellously appeared out of nowhere 4 years ago, after all.

An open mystery. A walking paradox. There's so much to know about the man, but there's also so little. No one is even sure whether the man has a true name that is not Captain Marvel.

"Then let me," Damian orders. He wants to know, oh so desperately. He wants to peel the Captain off, layer by layer, until the man is left bare in front of him, with nothing to hide.

A terrible hunger starts to crawl out of an endless pit inside Damian. All-consuming. Neverending. It makes the young boy's fangs itch. What a strange, new feeling for the teenage boy.

Damian wants to say something more. But nothing coming out of his mouth feels right. He feels like- He feels like whatever he wants to say is better said not with words, but with actions, with the touch of skin to skin, heat to heat.

So he closes the distance between him and the Captain. Closer. He wants to be closer. To the point of having no gap between their chests. To the point of merging into one-

"ARgh! Would you look at the time!? It's SO LATE! You have to go home, boy!" The Captain suddenly yells.

Before Damian knows it, he's already back in Gotham, in front of Wayne Manor, with a feeling of being laughed at by Hermes himself.

Of course, to take Damian back to Gotham instantly to avoid embarrassment counts as "worth using his power for" to Captain Marvel.

Fuck… Damian exhales, the vulgar curse almost escapes his mouth.

The itch on his fangs still hasn't gone away.

Unfortunately,

There's a rift between them. A two-year time rift. Their relationship will have to wait until Damian is 18.

He has never prayed so hard for time to pass quickly as he is right now.

"He reeks of blood and death," Tawky casually says, as the Captain has come back from delivering the Robin back home to Batman, still embarrassed and confused.

"I know. I know. Heck!" Billy inhales, exhales, as he frantically paces back and forth in the enclosure to calm his mind down. Damnit, the courage of Achilles is NOT helping him at all.

Achilles amusedly answers, "One does not see that this is what you should use his courage for, boy."

Translation: "I'm not helping you with this, boy. Have fun!"

"No cursing, Billy." Tawky's tail is still swaying in the air. After all, there's nothing more entertaining than teenage boys being in love.

"Is this even the time?" The Captain, or Billy, throws up his hands, "You- You saw all of that! I mean- What kind of person say- says that kind of stuff on the first date?"

"Date, hm?" Tawky answers. "I thought you said you two were not dating, in any way."

"… No! not- not like- date- I mean- Solomon, help me!"

Solomon laughs like an old grandfather, "One does not believe he can help, my Champion. It is beneath me. Perhaps consider consulting the God of the sky in my stead."

Translation: "Don't ask me advice on teenage love and stuff, boy. Ask Zeus."

Atlas chimes in, "It is not wise to consult the King on this trivial matter, my boy."

Translation: "Don't ask Zeus. I repeat. DO NOT ask Zeus about love matters."

Of course, Zeus, himself, has to speak up, "One shall never hesitate in battle, my Champion. Be it the battle between warriors. Or be it the battle between your cowardice and love."

Translation: "I love that Damian kid, Billy. Go for it, boy!"

So the lightning rumble from before was Zeus being supportive, after all.

"ARGH! You are ALL so insufferable today!"

Hercules joins the conversation, "If you deem our reactions to be insufferable, you shall wisely avoid telling your sister, and your most trusted ally, my boy.

Translation: "Well, I can advice you on one thing, and it's not to tell Mary and Freddy yet."

"…"

Yup.

Definitely.

Cannot agree more.

Chapter Text

The sun is shining—which is a rare sight in Gotham. The birds are chirping—usually, there are more crows and ravens. And the flowers are booming—not Poison Ivy's children.

Batman just fucking knows he either dies today or at least one of his children is pregnant. Maybe Dick. Especially Dick. Or that Tim has successfully cloned Jason so he can have moving target practices in the Batcave.

Fortunately, none of those things is true.

Unfortunately, the dire situation involves the youngest of his children, rather than the rest.

Now, there's something he needs to clarify.

Damian used to be the problem child of the family, but time has changed and the teenager has mellowed out over the years. He's surprisingly well-behaved, currently (as long as he is not provoked). He enjoys drawing, comic books, animals, and volunteering at hospitals and soup kitchens.

An absolute angel.

So what's wrong with Damian recently, you ask?

He has started taking an interest in- in-

Batman wants to puke thinking about it.

Damian has started taking some interest in romantic intimacy!

"Just say sex. It's FINE. He's 16!" Dick yells at him from across the room. The 30-year-old rolls his eyes so hard they almost got stuck looking at their own brain. "It's just a porn magazine! Every teenager has at least 30 of those! I had some too!"

Yes, today, the Batman has found a single porn magazine hidden in plain sight, in between countless encyclopedias and comic books inside the teenager boy's room.

PORN MAGAZINE!

"It's not even a porn magazine," Tim, the former-teenager, rarely defends his younger brother, as he flips through the pages, "It's just campy bikini pictures! And the kid even wrote notes in them criticising the composition and photo editing techniques of the pics!"

Duke tilts his head to look at the pages more clearly, and yes, the kid even used black ink to circle the parts he didn't like in the shots, "I doubt he actually masturbates to those. Yikes."

"Can we drop the conversation?" Batman groans; his back has never moved until the word 'masturbate' was used with his youngest son. Just the concept must've felt like pure, unadulterated fear toxin to him.

"Nope. Let me see." Jason jumps down from his hiding place—somewhere in the vents—and snatches the magazine from Tim's hands. After some thoughtful observation, he turns to Batman, "Well, if we assume he liked this pic the most-" Jason points at the cleanest page thus far of the magazine, and grins, "Let's just say birds of the feathers like thighs together, I guess."

"ARgh," Bruce makes a disgruntled sound before burying his face in his hands, refusing to look in the general direction of Jason. But of course, Jason, being Jason, just has to shove the page spread in Batman's face.

"Look, B, look!"

The picture has a single grown male dressed as a forest ranger—of course, the kid likes forest rangers—posing with a tiger. The outfit is decent at best; it barely covers the man's chest, but the emphasized parts are the man's thighs, which are wrapped tightly with a short one size too small for him. Very… abundant-looking, one may say.

"But isn't Hal leaner than that?" Duke asks. "Damian seems to like people with more meat on their bones, lol."

"Shh, Duke. It's like steak," Dick, the eldest, answers with a condescending voice, "Some like their steak medium rare. Some like well-done. But we all like steak, don't we?"

"True. Lowkey, I respect that." Duke nods and huffs with pride, "Damian's about to hit a growth spurt, anyway, and we all know he's gonna be like, big, BIG. So I guess he can definitely handle all that that comes with big meaty thighs, you know."

"Handle all what?" Dick, quite unfamiliar with the brainrot language, asks.

"Pfft," Tim snorts, before inhaling a long breath to answer with all of his passion, "Handle all that ASS-"

"ROBINS!" Batman yells, finally standing up and throwing the 'porn magazine' in Jason's face, "Go do your missions! Why are you all flocking here today? Even you, Jason?"

"Hey!" Dick shrugs, "You just said several days ago we should spend more time together as a crime-fighting family! And now that we do, you flip the table on us?"

"Yeah, B," Jason can barely hold in his laughter, "How else can we bond with our youngest if we don't know what he's into?"

"Or whom he's into," Duke adds.

"We all chased out the girls just to specifically discuss Damian's porn-mag, you can't kick us out of the Batcave right now!" Tim confesses.

"I cannot stress enough how much respecting privacy is important for a healthy relationship," The Bat pinches the bridge of his nose. Never has he been this desperate to end a conversation like this. Normally, he just grunts, and people take the hint, but not these kids, not the kids that already know he's full of shit.

"You planted 16 GPS chips in me within the first week of me coming here," Dick deadpans. "I was 8. You still do that recently."

"Every time I find a new safe-house, you plant a camera in it within 3 days." Jason agrees. "I fuck people there, B. What is wrong with you?"

"When I dated the red-haired sweet guy from St*rbucks, you told him he could have erectile dysfunction because his mom's brother only had one testicle," Tim adds, "I was not even mad about you snooping around. I was just mad you thought I didn't know that yet."

"Okay, that was fucked up-" Jason turns to Tim, but gets cut off by Duke.

"Yeah, not to ruin your 'therapy journey' or anything, but you are not the one to talk about privacy and healthy boundaries, Bruce." Duke nods.

"…"

Sometimes you just have to accept that your children are your worst enemies.

"Jeez, I wonder if you're THIS obsessed with your kids, how far have you gone for people you are actually attracted to?" Jason clicks his tongue.

"Trust me, you don't want to know," Tim replies instantly, the horrid memories of a distant past come back to him, and the former-teenager has to do a full body-shake to get the images out of his head.

"Besides, B," Dick playfully says, still the ever brightly shining light of Gotham, "Just leave the kid be. Damian's exploring new horizons, and-"

"What is it about me?"

Fuck-

"Damian!" Dick yelps.

Everyone in the cave snaps their head at the entrance, and of course, there he is, the main topic of the conversation, Damian Wayne. He was supposed to do a scouting mission on the other side of the city, but it looks like the prodigal son has, once again, done a splendid job and gone home early for the day.

"Nothing! Nothing at all! Hahaha!" Dick waves his hands, pretending to be friendly and happy that their youngest Robin has come home. "Heyy, so how was, uregh, how was the mission? Was it successful? Still alive?"

"Richard, I cannot stress enough how embarrassing and unbelievable your lies are." Damian slowly walks down the stairs. He doesn't even look irritated, just… offended, with a slight frown between his thick eyebrows. "What is it about me that you all are discussing?"

Bruce senses something is wrong. He glares at Jason. Jason eyes Bruce with a dirty grin on his face. A conversation has been had.

"Jason-" Bruce tries, he really does, he has tried his best to stop Jason, but-

"So hey, we found porn in your room!" Jason instantly yells.

The whole bat cave freezes over for several seconds before Damian's widened eyes turn into a confused squint, "Porn?"

"Yeah, what else do you call this?" Jason laughs as he opens the magazine and raises it like it's a bill about to be passed by Congress. "You can NOT tell me you don't like actually forest rangers. That's so on brand for you."

Contrary to how a normal teenager would behave in a situation like this—confused, embarrassed, furious, scared, even—Damian just silently looks at the magazine, and lets out a sigh, a disappointed sigh. He sounds more offended than angry, "How have you all convinced yourself that my taste is that vulgar and messy? Even you, father? I have expected more of you."

"Not to defend B or anything, but he DOES like someone who's vulgar and messy-" Dick blurts out.

"Dick-" Bruce helplessly tries to hold on to the last fragment of the illusion of control, but of course, Dick likes to stomp on his fragile 'authority' he has over his Robins.

The one and only legitimate adult's opinions and feelings get thrown out the window quickly as Damian answers Dick with no regard for his father's poor attempt at keeping a little dignity.

"That is unfortunately true," Damian sighs in disappointment. It is not anyone but Fate's fault that his father is tied to Green Lantern, the messiest one among them, even. "But no, Jason, that's not my 'porn magazine'. And I do not use it to satisfy my physical needs. It is an annual, rather vulgar, but goodwill charity project to raise money for the Gotham zoo. I was, against my will, roped into attending it earlier, so I, of course, had to study it for future references and improvements."

Silence consumes all again.

Damian tilts his head to analyze the page and nods, before adding, "Even though, you were right that I like this page the most. It was on theme, and it managed to show the true target of the project—the animals."

…

"Fuckkkkk…" Jason lets out an exasperated sigh.

"So you are saying that you do not feel horny with these pictures at all?" Tim frowns, unable to accept his defeat just yet. "You look at this woman with two handkerchiefs on her boobs and you feel nothing at all?"

Damian looks at Tim with so much disgust that Tim may as well be a child murderer in his eyes, "Clearly, you and I have very different tastes, Drake. Never disrespect me like that, again."

"Well, you have to get hard at SOMEthing!" Duke is determined, "Well, unless you're asexual, but clearly not because you said you liked butts, boobs, and thighs the other day!"

"One can appreciate beauty without harbouring any lowly lust towards it," Damian has the perfect defence. Duke has failed to score. "I am not weird, your brains are all just filled with obscenity."

"Damian, listen to me, there's no need to hide." Dick tries to approach the situation maturely, and by maturely, it means 'assuming Damian is just lying to hide his embarrassment', "We have all been there, done that. It's healthy for a boy your age to be a little horny sometimes. Every time."

"Cease your senseless yapping, Richard", Damian gasps, he's looking at Dick like he has just been betrayed, "I shall listen to anyone's advice, but you, Richard. And naturally, Todd."

"What does that even mean?" Dick almost screams.

"He means your love life is messy." Jason shrugs.

"You say that like you don't have a messy love life yourself," Tim points out, "How is it going with the other Green Lantern in-law of the family, Todd? Tired of getting rejected, yet?"

"Jason is dating ANOTHER Green Lantern?" Duke gasps like he's in a telenovela. "Dude, you cannot just steal Bruce's whole identity like that. You two already look too alike for my comfort!"

"Tim, you pesky little bitch, you promised you'd keep that a secret!" Jason pulls out his guns.

And of course, a fight starts. Nothing can be normal around here. Everything always ends with some curses thrown around, some teeth flying, and some organs damaged whenever more than 3 Robins are flocking together in the Batcave.

"I am so confused right now," Batman stands there like a low-quality figure trying to stand upright, amidst his horde of children (only male, fortunately, he doesn't want to hear about his girls talking about porn and sex), fighting about sex, porn mag, and taste in their bed partner.

The main problem—Damian just casually picks up and dusts the magazine—the charity project—lying on the ground after Jason has thrown it at Duke's head. He looks unusually calm. Normally, he would more likely scream something like "I will never betray my soulmate" or something of the nature. So Batman walks towards him, and after a deep sigh, he says, "It's… You see, I don't mean to… make you feel uncomfortable by bringing this up, but-"

But of course, if there's anything harder to control than 4 fully-grown super genius detectives, it's a single teenage boy.

"Are you trying to give me the sex talk, or are you trying to defend your preferences to your beloved's thighs to me, Father?" Damian asks his father, with little to no shame in his voice, when the forbidden word 'sex' rolls off his tongue.

"I-" The question has effectively rendered the infamous Batman frozen on his feet like he has been hit by Mr. Freeze's gun.

"Besides, how can you all seriously think I feel any sort of lust towards these nobodies?" Damian continues, eyes glaring at the suggestive models posing with their skin and curves exposed with disgust, "I should behead you all for daring to indirectly insult me and my soulmate like so."

"Oh yeah, glad you got that from your mommy, Damian," Jason shrugs as Tim is putting him in a headlock. How is he talking, anyway? He's in a headlock? "Jesus, your daddy was a manwhore. Never be like him."

"Of course, Jason, who do you think I am? A pathetic man who cannot treat his fated beloved right? Impossible!" Damian nods in agreement. Yeah, he has just sort of disrespected his dad. But it's okay, folks, he's doing it for Talia. Well, Talia is not Bruce's soulmate, but still-

"Okay, Damian, that's enough for today. You should go rest-" Batman takes another sigh, feeling the stab wound deep in his soul. Sometimes, he doesn't know whether he dreads being stabbed emotionally or physically by his only blood son.

"Father," Damian folds his arms and looks at Bruce with some… pity in his eyes, "Despite my words, you should know that I do not feel any hatred for your fated mate, Jordan. In fact, I shall remind you, once again, that you should- what's the word Steph often uses? Right, grow a pair of boobs and treat your soulmate better."

"Damian, that is not the right use of- never mind," Batman takes another sigh, his face troubled, "This is my matter to take care of. You need not concern yourself with it."

"May I suggest something, Father? Strongly?"

"Yes, Damian?"

"I think you two need to bone."

"Pfft- Little D!/Good gracious-/Jesus-/You're an atheist, Tim." The Robins are so startled that they actually stop fighting.

"Bone- BONE?!"

That's the last word Batman says to Damian that night before running away in his Batmobile. To where? Who knows? Coast City? Probably.

Forgive Batman, he's just a mere father getting hit in the face with a truck called "the youngest child has grown up enough to think about sexy stuff". Still, he's actually reacting better than he did with Dick. Gosh. First child syndrome and Dick's natural beauty and charm that could attract anyone (even inappropriate creeps) were the golden recipe for a nightmare that still haunts Batman til this day.

He just hopes Damian steers clear away from people who are much, much older than him. That's his only wish. Anyone else is negotiable to the Bat.

And with the only legitimate adult gone, there's only one semi-adult and 4 former-teenagers left in the Batcave. And we all know how a conversation between 5 human males at a healthy age would normally go.

They either talk about games, murders, the guilt of murdering someone, or hot people, with no filter at all.

"So- Batman's gone…" Duke trails off.

"Yes, Duke, I like butts more than boobs," Damian admits.

"I fucking knew it." Duke proudly states.

"So-" Jason continues the conversation.

"No, Jason, I find you physically repulsive," Damian glares at him with disgust on his face, "You're built just like father. Consider that fact before ever asking me about your appearance again."

"So-" Dick chimes in.

"No, Richard, I admit that you're attractive to most, but I do not find you more attractive than Jason. If anything, I have grown older, Dick. I had expected you to stop caring about the 'sexiest vigilante' chart by now."

"Ouch-" Duke pitifully looks at the two older vigilantes, who're looking exceptionally dejected right now, like dogs which have been told 'bad boy'. You can certainly count on the youngest brother to humble the older kids' egos.

"Still, I have read your notes on the models, you still find people with some meat on them more attractive, right?" Tim still relentlessly asks. "That, I respect. And you said that you liked butts the most, but it sounds a little… shallow, doesn't it?"

"Where're you going with this, Drake?" Damian eyes Tim with caution.

Among the brothers, he finds Tim the most troublesome; his nose is better than most, but he tends to make it everyone's problem.

"Batman has taught us all that we have to conduct proper research before making a definitive conclusion, right?"

"…"

"Say, Damian, have you ever touched any boobs or butts before? How can you be so sure?" Tim's face turns into a devious grin that matches the face of the Devil himself. Figuratively. Hopefully not literally. "And how can you be sure you don't actually have a special interest in any other… parts of your soulmate's body?"

The questions actually force Damian to pause and think.

Huh… Timothy Drake is actually making some sense.

From the side, Jason recovers from the devastating emotional blow to show Damian a reference, "Contrary to popular beliefs-" He gives the youngest boy a thumbs up, "-I like hands the most."

"Just say you like to be strangled," Dick sighs.

So, with that fiasco of a night, Damian has another goal to achieve in mind: Find out what part of Captain Marvel's body he likes best.

The best contenders are still, butts, thighs, and boobs, in that order, but Damian guesses he should open up his horizon to more parts. Tim is right, he should be more responsible with his research and conclusion, he's Robin, after all.

So that goal brings him to the Watchtower some days later, on a random Tuesday before the briefing of a meeting about a magical relic being trafficked through Gotham—Of course, Gotham is involved through the sheer power of lazy writing. So rightfully, both Damian and Captain Marvel are requested to join, which, conveniently, lets Damian have a chance to observe the Captain while he's being silent.

Damian must say, the Captain certainly does look better with his mouth shut and his eyes focused on important matters. Dignified and captivating.

Damian cannot help but stare; luckily, the built-in white lenses on his mask allow him to do so shamelessly.

The red fabric made from magic still hugs his body as tightly as always; it almost leaves nothing to one's imagination except the colour and the softness of the skin hidden below. Damian recalls the magazine from the other day, and he wondered how he had found the choice of clothes in it vulgar and unflattering, while Captain Marvel, in those same tight-fitting clothes, looks almost too alluring to resist. Damian thought the Captain was an admirable hero figure to children, but why must he wear such tempting attire to appear in front of the public? The thoughts fuel the jealousy fire in Damian's heart, just a little bit.

"Captain," Damian calls under his breath, and the Captain's vibrant blue eyes turn to him immediately. The corner of Damian's lips lifts slightly, and the Captain quickly averts his eyes, back to the screens.

Damian waits a bit for the Captain to focus on the important parts, first, and then Damian? No need, he has memorized all of the info, anyway. He helped his father make the presentation himself.

So after some minutes, Damian speaks again, "Captain."

The Captain pretends not to hear him, but Damian can see his ears are starting to get red.

"Captain," The third time Damian calls him, the Captain purposely turns his face away. Well, he is exercising the rules Damian has put on him well. But then again, what's the first rule of the list? That the Captain cannot initiate physical contact with him, right? But the opposite is allowed, isn't it?

So-

Captain Marvel almost panics and electrocutes the whole table when he feels something touching his thighs. He snaps his neck to stare at Robin with disbelief in his eyes and a growing shade of red on his face.

Batman notices, of course, he does, he always notices things, "What's wrong, Captain? Do you have any problem with Robin?"

"No- I-" The Captain frantically shakes his head, and looks back and forth between Robin's smug face and Batman's domineering glare. He inhales and lets out an estranged smile, "Nothing, Batman."

"… Really?"

"Yeah!"

"… Let's get back to the topic,"

Cold sweats start to form on the invincible Champion's forehead, as the hand on his thighs is getting bolder. Bolder. And a little bolder. First, just the top part of his thighs, Damian strokes them a bit, gently, caustiously, and when he knows Batman's eyes are looking away, Damian's hands trail down a bit lower. Right between the two thighs, where it feels the softest to the touch. And the hottest, too. Damian finds himself enjoying this feeling more than he ever thought he would.

"D- Robin!" The Captain finally answers Damian, but this time, Damian decides to return the favour and pretends he has heard nothing. So the Captain frustratedly grabs Damian's wrist and glares at him with annoyance and embarrassment, "You- you can't-"

But Damian simply uses his gaze to look at Superman, and back to the Captain, sending a very clear message to the Captain: [Don't talk, Superman can hear]

The Captain's back instantly straightens out of fear.

Damian's hand still hasn't moved away, but it no longer strokes and reaches further down with any teasing intentions in mind. Damian just lets his hand rest on Marvel's thighs and squeezes them occasionally like a stress ball to pass the time.

The Captain's skin is now almost too red; it has started to melt into the red fabric covering him. Oh Gods, it's the longest meeting in the poor Captain's life thus far. And it's worse when the Gods in his mind are not helping at all, they just keep laughing and teasing him. Except for Hercules, he's telling Billy to kill Damian, but that's not acceptable, obviously.

When the meeting comes to an end, Damian decides he has had enough fun, so he pinches the Captain's meaty thighs one last time before pulling his hand back.

Hmm, thighs have jumped up in the chart in the teenager's pure heart. He thinks he currently likes the Captain's thighs the best; he can understand his father's particular enjoyment towards the Green Lantern's thighs now.

Though Damian does think he has the superior pair of thighs here—plumper, more plentiful, and so, so very soft, like clouds. Truly, the ancient Greeks were wise about the kind of beauty that was worth fighting wars for.

Damian enjoys it, but of course, not the Captain, who's the direct victim here.

"I can't believe you- you have-" Captain Marvel points at him, shakily, with fury burning his face, "You're unbelievable! We were in a meeting!"

"A simple meeting," Damian shrugs. "If you need me to debrief it for you again, I will gladly."

"That's not the point!" The Captain folds his arms, preparing to scold Damian, "What if your father caught you? And- and Superman! You know he can hear everything! Everything!"

"I have faith that you'll know when to keep your voice down. And you did."

"But still I- I did not consent to that!" The Captain pouts, with cheeks puffed out like a puffer fish, which Damian has found quite endearing.

"So I have to do that somewhere else?"

"Of course! Like- At least do it somewhere private! You cannot touch me in meetings, like ever! EVER!" The Captain almost speaks too loudly, but he manages to control his voice at the last minute to prevent a certain someone from knowing whatever the two are doing.

"Hmm, I see," The Robin lazily leans back on the sofa behind him, with a subtle smug on his face, "Come here, sit beside me."

"…Okay?" Captain Marvel is taken aback by Damian's casual attitude, which signals that everything is… fine somehow? So naturally, he listens to Damian and floats towards Robin to sit next to him, with a confused face.

And of course, Damian's hand find its way onto the Captain's thighs again.

"Just how shameless are you-" The Captain jolts up, but Damian says.

"You told me to do it somewhere private." Damian looks at Captain Marvel in the eyes when he says, with no hints of hesitation in his eyes. His forest green eyes are just as clear as the colour of a lake during Fall—Pure, with no ill-will whatsoever.

"Not-not here! Not right now! We're about to leave for a mission!" The Captain lifts Damian's hands away from his thighs.

"So after the mission? In your city? That place is private enough with your magic barrier surrounding it," Damian asks earnestly, with his head tilted 8 degrees to the right—the classic manipulation tactics: appearing as cute to your victim as possible.

"That's-" There's something at the back of the Captain's mind telling him there's something wrong—probably Solomon—but his mind is too scrambled to even think properly right now. "I guess that is- that is acceptable-"

The Robin then gives the Captain the kind of smile that scarily reminds him of demons from hell. Terrible, terrible demons that eat humans' souls for fun and not for survival.

"I cannot wait," The demon wearing the skin of a teenage boy says.

From the back of Billy's mind, Solomon's voice finally comes through from behind all the confusion, and frankly, stupidity, "Child, one is extremely concerned as of the moment."

Chapter Text

The mission should've been easy. It should've been in, out, and done.

But God forbid anything being easy in this universe; Damian dreads it.

The relic they were after was, unfortunately, too much for the League to chew firsthand. It raised an entire army of ghost-like soldiers that were untouchable and unkillable. They were from another plane of existence. Batman had to order a retreat and a shutdown for the whole City of Gotham; every hand were on deck to keep the situation under control.

The heavy hitters are tasked with creating a barrier to keep the ghost inside, away from the rest of the civilization.

The magic users are trying to find a way to disable the relic.

As the heroes who are most familiar with the city, the Robins have been tasked with scouting and helping those who are left behind reach a shelter. Of course, Damian is among them.

But his luck isn't always the best. He had been ambushed by his old enemies and chased down the sewage system of Gotham, which was a perfect place for a pesky little ghost scouter to find him and lead the ghost soldiers to his place.

With no way to fight off the ghost army, his only goal was to evade and retreat, but even that was proven to be futile, for the ghosts emit a rotting aura that has permeated every crook and corner of the sewage system.

Great.

When Damian saw the gate of Hell, from behind a make-shift shelter, with a rotting arm and hundreds of ghosts closing in on him, he thought he had lost any hope left, and he, soon, would bid this cursed world a bitter farewell. He only thought of one thing- Well, two.

The first was that he wished he could've sent his family and friends a final message.

The second was the final regret of not getting to lose his lips' virginity.

"I should've kissed him… fuck-" Damian, out of frustration, uttered a curse before losing his consciousness.

But of course, he had just met his soulmate 2 weeks ago, and by the stars, Fate is cruel, but not always.

So Damian gets to wake up again, just not in a hospital or a safe place, but still the dreadful sewage system of Gotham, and still the rotting ache in his own arm warning him of an end that is near.

But he is no longer alone.

Apricot, osmanthus wine, and a hint of Spring flowers.

There is someone else with him, someone who is covering both himself and Damian with a white cape that feels like silk and clouds on Damian's burning skin. It feels good. It feels too good. Damian has, deep within his romantic heart, hope that the Captain has found him and maybe, after this, they can have a little kiss. It shall be in secret. And there shall be many more to come.

Damian really wants to kiss his soulmate right now.

"You're awake? Thank the Gods!"

A young boy's voice that has not even cracked yet.

Damian slowly raises his head and follows the source of the voice.

The person in front of him is-

Against Damian's desperate hope, the one that is with him is not the Captain, but rather, someone unfamiliar—a young boy who is around 13 or 14. Where to even begin to describe the boy? What is there to describe, even? He looks almost too ordinary. Damian may as well be describing any civilian on the streets.

An old, red hoodie, with an equally old pair of jeans, and dirty running shoes that are definitely off-brand.

His black hair is damp and messy. His face is almost too forgettable, with scratches all over it being barely patched up with cheap-looking Band-Aids. The only notable thing about the boy is his pair of blue eyes that are so vibrant and sky-like, it gives Damian an ache in the heart, for it reminds him of the Captain.

Skinny, scrawny and dirty.

He looks like someone Damian should be helping, and not the other way around.

But the boy smiles at him, with nothing but optimism and joy, "I thought I lost you! I was so scared, you have no idea!"

"Who are you?" Damian speaks—his throat feels dry and painful—and reaches for his sword. The stranger seems to be an idiot because why would one dare to leave Robin's sword anywhere within his arm's reach?

"Ah! No, no! I'm here to help! I'm your-" The boy takes a pause, before continuing with some embarrassment on his face, "-ally. I'm your ally."

"You don't sound like you're from Gotham."

"That's because I'm from Fawcett- argh… damn it, I shouldn't have said that." The boy frowns deeply and condemns himself, "I'm not used to this yet… I'm a- I'm a, it's so hard to say this out loud, but I am-"

Before the boy can finish his sentence, a wandering undead soldier spots them. That wretched thing immediately pulls out its sword and jumps right at them, with only murder on its mind.

Damn it-

Damian grips his sword and tries to cover the boy behind his back, but the boy, despite looking so weak and unfit to be anywhere near a battlefield, immediately uses both of his arms to hug Damian from behind.

Damian thinks he should be mad, he does, but within one blink time, Damian finds himself in a different place already with no enemy in sight. Some… dark room, still within the sewage area, but dusty and empty, it looks temporarily safe.

It's a teleportation spell.

"Where- Where did you take us? Who are you truly?" Damian immediately turns around, sword pointing straight at the only other person in the room with a thousand alarms going off in his mind at the same time, warning him of the boy's power and his true identity. His hand almost goes pale from gripping his sword with all of his remaining strength.

He may die for another reason today-

But contrary to what his instinct is telling him, to fight or to flee, doesn't matter, at the other end of the sword, the boy who has just performed it pukes out some dark blood. It taints the ground below, and some droplets even make their way onto Damian's sword.

"Argh… holly molly that hurts…" The boy struggles to speak through the fresh blood in his mouth, but eventually, he regains his composure, only to be frightened by the sword pointing at him. "Oh Hera!" He quickly yelps, "I just saved you! Seriously?"

From the look of it… Damian deems the other boy to be… not very dangerous. Can Damian trust him, for now? But then again, what's the point of thinking, anyway? Damian has no other way out instead of this one single ordinary-looking boy in front of him.

He sighs and lowers his sword, as some unknown feeling is gnawing his beating heart, making his wearied mind even weaker. The teenager asks, "Your name?"

"B- Hm…wait- I haven't thought of that, yet." The boy's eyebrows are knitted almost to a straight line.

"You haven't thought of your own name?" Damian asks with confusion.

"No, but I don't want you to know my real name! Duh!" The boy barks back, he folds his arms defensively, "It's like, my most guarded secret!"

Damian grits his teeth. Maybe this boy not being dangerous is not exactly a good thing. "Then how should I address you?"

"Umm… wait wait…" The boy, again, looks like he's so very deep in thought just for a very solvable problem, "… I haven't picked a good alias yet- Like! There are so many to choose from, you know? Like- Like is Chargebolt allowed? Or should I just call myself Bolt? Oh, wait, that's the dog-"

"Just get over it already! We don't have time!"

"Fine! I'm Billy, okay?? But like, I'm not giving you my last name!"

"… Billy, seriously? Just Billy?" Damian asks with a blank expression. He simply doesn't know what to react to such a basic ass name. "You waste so much time just for the name Billy?"

"Yeah, Billy! What's about it?" The boy puffs out his cheeks and folds his arms, and Damian wants to pinch the bridge of his nose out of pure tiredness. This is going to be a long night; he doesn't know whether he should be glad to be saved or not.

"Right, Billy- Care to introduce yourself? Why are you here, and who are you, really? Are you with the Justice League Dark? No, they wouldn't send a child like you into the sewage just for me-"

"Ah, I-" Billy turns to him, and hesitation dawns on his face. Now that Damian finally has time, he notices the boy is wearing a white cape that looks almost too white and too pure to exist in such a dreadful place. Along the cape's edges runs a gilded border that is not subtle by any means. Extravagant, one may say. It reminds him of the cape of his beloved Captain. Are those two related, somehow? Didn't Billy say that he is from Fawcett-

"Did Captain Marvel send you?"

The boy's eyes widen with surprise, "How did you know so fast?"

"I am Robin, what do you think?"

So it is the Captain's doing, after all. The logical part of Robin's brain tells him that the Captain is most likely working with the Justice League Dark to find a solution, and that helping him is simply a courtesy for his father, as an important ally. But the emotional, love-sick part of Damian's brain just screams in joy that the Captain loves him and is willing to send his- apprentice (?) to help him.

Just the sheer foolishness of the thought has given Damian nothing but unearned peace and confidence in a new dawn.

Ease washes all over Damian's face, body, and mind, and with it all the frightening pain, stress, and worry.

He almost collapses from exhaustion.

"Careful!" Billy immediately stands up to give Damian some support, but the difference in their physique is simply too much, so Damian just ends up dragging Billy down to the floor with him. "URgh-" The boy groans, and as he opens his eyes again, he finds himself lying on top of Damian, "Ack! Sorry!" He immediately skittles away out of panic.

Damian doesn't even mind. The boy barely weighs anything to him.

Still,

Apricot, Osmanthus wine and flowers of Spring.

Despite looking so filthy, Billy surprisingly smells so simple… divine to him, just like his soulmate—he smells like a festival in Spring, being celebrated by the followers of the Gods of an old time, with fresh wine, fruits, flowers, and nothing but joy.

Ah-

Damian's hands subconsciously chase the heat that has just been on top of him just now.

"Jeez, you're heavy," The boy settles next to him, his face a little red, but he has calmed down. "I'm not- I guess I know Captain Marvel, but I'm not his apprentice or sidekicks or anything, we're just from the same city and like- He wants to save you, so-"

The boy does not seem to be lying. If he had lied, Damian would've known immediately.

Damian nods, "Then why is he not being here physically?"

The boy shakes his head, "No, that is not possible. Trust me, if I- he could, you would've been out of here immediately. The relic was made to defy the old Gods, and the Captain's body is made out of divine magic, so if he's physically down here, or anywhere in the city, the relic would be very crazy and cranky and stuff. It's like the reaction between water and acid, you know?" Billy sounds a little too proud when he can make the comparison at the end; he must've just learned that in Chemistry at school.

"I see. So that was why he had sent you." Damian is satisfied with Billy's answer. With the Captain's name, all of the suspicions and anxiety Damian has towards the unfamiliar boy immediately drops. Such a stupid teenager.

"Yeah, like, my power is kinda… undetectable? You can say that."

"So, you're weak?" Damian winces.

"Hey! That is not true! Prick!" The boy is pouting again. There's something… confident about the boy that Damian cannot understand—the confidence that Damian will not hurt him anyway. Such a strange boy, normally, people know better than acting comfortable around him. "Seriously! It's just that I can cloak myself better and all! The Captain's magic is just too strong that it's really not possible to hide anywhere!"

"He's the protector of Magic himself." Damian huffs, pride oozes out of his voice, "Don't try to compare yourself to him. It is like a mere firefly trying to outshine the sun."

"Oh- That's-Um-" For some reason, the boy looks shy, not angry or dejected, just shy, "-That's very nice of you. I think- I think the Captain would be glad to hear that."

What a strange conversation.

But Billy quickly adds, "Oh, right, since we're finally safe!"

Damian tilts his head and finally recalls that his left arm is rotting. The smell is comparable to a dead, rotting body.

"Tt," Damian clicks his tongue as he reaches for his sword again. For what, you ask? To completely cut it off, of course.

"Hey! Hey! No! I can fix that! Don't cut off your arm!" Billy frantically holds Damian's working arm down to prevent him from amputating himself, "Just wait a bit!"

"Can you, really? I have seen people melting into a puddle of brown flesh and blood from a single infested cut." Damian eyes Billy. He does not want to appear to be disrespectful, but Billy does not look like someone who is well-versed in magic.

"I literally saved you from hundreds of those zombie freaks! Trust me!" Billy puffs his chest out with pride, "I am the Wizard in training after all- Holy fucking moly- Can you forget what I have just said?"

Damian stares at Billy. Deadpan. "No," he says.

"Urgh," The young boy exhales in exasperation, "Iwilljusteraseyourmemoriesafterthis," He mumbles.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. Let me see the wound!" Billy gives him a reassuring smile before pushing Damian to lean against the wall, then he carefully helps Damian take off his red glove and cuts the fabric surrounding the infested wound.

Damian cannot help but stare at the boy a bit as he concentrates. He, pleasantly, finds the boy's face to be easier on the eyes now that he has developed some sort of bond towards this foolish boy. Friendship, perhaps? But Damian finds himself enjoying how the boy's eyebrows are knitting together, and how the boy's vibrant blue eyes shine like jewels in the dark with the shades of Lapis Lazuli—They look like they hold the entirety of the Autumn sky. Clear. Calming. Captivating.

"URgh, you're lucky I found you in time, or else- How can you look so unbothered by it? It must've hurt like hell!" The boy shakes his head and raises his head to look at Damian. Eye to eye. Billy's vibrant blue eyes finally meet Damian's pair of forest green eyes, and Damian feels like his heart has skipped a beat before speeding up.

Why?

Damian feels like there's something wrong with him today.

"… I have grown… accustomed to pain." Damian coughs before answering. And after his sentence, he can see clear sadness passing by the deep blue eyes in front of him, before the other boy blinks and focuses back on the task at hand.

"Alright, then I don't need to worry you wouldn't be able to take it-"

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm sewing some ruins into your hands." Billy, from the cheap-looking hoodie he's wearing, pulls out a small reel of threads. But the threads themselves look… magical. Fully golden. Blindingly shining. Like they are gold. Like they are woven from- "It's sunlight."

"What?" Damian snaps back to reality.

"Well, you look interested, so- It's sunlight! It can ward off the rotting magic on your arm! Like- uh- like how Apollo is the God of healing and such." Billy clumsily tries to squeeze the golden threads through the eye of the needle. He looks like he has rarely done this before: "Like- Um, It's hard to explain, but Wonder Woman's Lasso was also made from this. The Golden Girdle of Gaea story, I suppose you already knew."

"How did you- How did you get your hands on it?" Damian frowns.

"It's not like I can make another lasso! I'm not Hephaestus!" Billy looks offended, "Besides, it takes ages to get enough sunlight to weave a single thread! You're looking at my 4 years of hard work! It will take me a millennium at least to have enough threads to do anything besides this-"

Damian is- Well, let's just say even a blind man will be blinded by gold. And Damian's certainly not deaf, blind, and illiterate when it comes to magic; he can actually use some of it, even as Damian eyes the threads with a million ideas running through his mind, which looks obviously ill-willed to Billy.

"I know that look! Don't you even think about stealing from me!" Billy forcefully grabs Damian's rotting arm and places it on his thighs. But the moment Billy gets to the task, his hands start to shake, and the boy has to take some deep breaths to calm himself down.

"I will be fine." Damian soothes him.

"… Seriously… I hate this, I hate this! I wish Mary were here… she's much better at things like this than me-" The boy starts to blabber to calm his nerves, and Damian encourages him.

"Is Mary your sister? Or teacher?"

"Sister. She's my twin. She wants to be a surgeon in the future, or a vet, so she definitely knows more about this than me. I am not that good with… anything, really." Billy can finally speak calmly, and his hands have stopped shaking, as well. "Tell me if it hurts, okay?"

Damian nods. He, actually, cannot feel anything in his rotting arm, any longer.

The first stitch.

Billy nervously looks at Damian's face, and the teenager gives him a slight nod to signal it is okay.

So the second and the third come.

And just like Billy's words, when the golden thread enters Damian's arm, the dark, purple rotting colour on his skin starts to fade, slowly, but surely. And comes with it, the pain. But just like Damian has said, he has grown too accustomed to pain by now.

"Are you really alright?" The boy softly asks.

"Keep going." Damian nods, his voice is getting gentler, and gentler to comfort Billy. "Tell me more about Mary." How funny it is that the patient is trying to soothe the doctor.

The mention of Mary's name calms Billy immediately, and he even smiles, talking about her, "She's very bright! And very responsible, too! Nothing like me, haha. I cannot understand anything at school at all! And I keep forgetting to do my homework all the time. Come to think of it haven't done my Math homework…Urgh."

Ha, Damian snorts. The boy is being in somewhere that is practically hell with a dying person to patch up, and he has the mind to even think about math homework. Damian replies, "No one is really bad at everything. You look talented enough in magic to me."

"That's the only thing I can do, but-" Billy wants to say something more, but he changes the sentence midway, "I guess it's just… if I don't have my magic, then I don't have anything."

"That's not true."

"It's truer than you think. Besides, I can always abracadabra some money in the future." Billy jokes, but Damian can feel the doubt behind his eyes. "Don't tell Batman on me, okay?"

"My father?"

"Oh shit- uh-" Come on, Billy. From the back of his mind, six disappointed gods are slapping their foreheads. "I meant- uh because then it would be count-two-fei, right? Um-"

"Counterfeit."

"… Urgh, I hate big words and stuff. I am NOT a linguistic person. Don't expose me."

"You seem pretty alright with ancient language." Damian glares at his own arm, and of course, the runes are, fortunately, almost done. They look quite neat, actually. If Billy were not blabbering and admitting to not knowing what the word 'counterfeit' is in front of him, Damian would've assumed the person doing this was a scholar.

"It's much easier than you think- alright, one more stitch and DONE!"

Billy exhales in relief as he can finally stop holding and treating a rotting, bleeding arm anylonger. Thank the stars, he does not want to be a doctor at all!

Damian's arm, with the golden stitches blessing him, has recovered completely from the dark magic infestation, and what is left is just a bleeding cut that can be bandaged up with normal supplies. He swiftly takes care of his own wound in front of an aweing boy, "Will the stitches go away, or will they stay with me forever?" Having a glowing arm is quite… inconvenient for his everyday life.

"It's just sunlight woven into a thread that was blessed with cleansing power. It'll expire as long as you don't expose it to the sun. Just- Well, considering Gotham, it'll probably disappear tomorrow. It'll only be a problem if you're Kryptonian, really."

After finishing up his, Damian asks, "And how are we getting out of this place? I don't even realize where we are. How does your teleportation power work?"

"I- Um, haiz," Billy takes a deep breath, before trying to explain himself. "I am sort of a self-taught magic user."

"Which means?"

"So like, urgh, I cannot control my power that well, right? So it's either 100 or 0 to me. My magic, that is." Billy tries to use his hands to explain how far are his '100' and '0' are from each other. "Normally, it's just me, so I can do whatever, but if I have to teleport you, too, then I cannot keep you safe. I can accidentally not teleport your head and uh- kill you. Does that make sense?"

"…" Damian stares at Billy with… unreadable expression.

Billy continues, "So like, because I'm trying my best not to drop your head somewhere in here, I cannot teleport you far away, at all. I can only sense a place not infested yet with dark magic and teleport us there. But it's still a teleportation spell… and that spell is very, very strong, like, I can literally go to Persephone's garden with it, it's like driving a car but by only one centimetre. You know? And since I still have to start the car and all-"

"It still takes a toll on you?"

"Something like that, yes."

"And you don't know any… lesser teleportation spell."

"…" The boy pauses for a bit… and answers with hopelessness, like a dog being told that he's stupid because he does not know any tricks, "I only know high-level spells. Like, the highest."

"…" Damian also has to take a pause after hearing that logic. He inhales, and exhales, and with the patience granted by Gods, he asks, "You know the highest level of teleportation spell available, but not the lesser kind?"

"In my defense-" Billy wants to say that he is taught by the Gods and the literal Wizard himself, those entities do not know what is considered not 'the strongest spell there is'. "I am kind of a self-taught magic user."

He is not lying. He has to teach himself the basic magic. He literally knew how to kill Gods and Demons before he taught himself the spell of heating up a pack of Ramen himself. Heck, even his 'heating up a pack of ramen' uses the fire from Hestia (and she's okay with it; she's such a sweetheart, really), that small fire can melt the faces of demons and monsters. He uses the fire of Hestia to cook ramen!

Damian pinches the bridge of his nose, "That logic is so deeply flawed, I don't know where to start voicing my problems with it. If the situation were not so dire, I would demand the Justice League Dark to investigate you immediately."

"… I know." Billy clicks his tongue. This is why he didn't want to go out here as Billy Batson at all! He knows that John Constantine guy had been conspiring against him for a while! If the man knows Billy's true name, then he surely will try to mess with him. "Just- It's complicated. But I promise you that I am only here to get you out. So, can you not mention my name to anyone after this?"

"Ha, very well," Damian quietly stands up and moves his healed arm around a bit before reaching for his sword and swinging it. After some satisfying testing swings, Damian unseaths his sword and turns to Billy, "I owe you my life, after all. Name what you want for compensation, and I shall meet it."

"… Ah, that- no problem at all." Billy scratches his nape as he averts his eyes in shyness. "It's not that big of a deal, really. It's just- No need to thank me or anything."

"Then first, let us discuss our strategy. I need to know your weaknesses and strengths to work around them." Damian states.

"Oh, alright! I know a spell that can create an area that is like, you know, the ghosts are from another plane of existence, kind of, right? So, we cannot affect them, but they can affect us because of the relic! So, I will just need to… what's the word? Physically link two layers of existence together in one place, and in that area, you can defeat them!"

"… What?"

"It's like you put two sheets of fabric on top of each other, and I will pinch two layers of fabric together and put them together, and where they touch, you can physically kill the ghosts."

"You are talking about a spell that can alter the fabric of reality itself," Damian says, disbelief in his voice.

"I mean, if you put it like that, it sounds serious, but I can do it fine, trust!" Billy stands up, and Damian notices how the white cape surrounding him is almost too big, too long for him. "Besides, it'll only be a small area."

"A single small area? Are you even aware that a single mistake made can collapse the entire universe itself?" Damian clearly sounds annoyed and, frankly, frightened. He turns away from the smaller boy, his whole body and mind, once again, is being strung against his will, "No. Let's not do it. My life is not worth the slightest chance of your spell failing and costing us everything. Everything."

"What are you even talking about? If anyone- If there's anyone here is worth it, then- then it's you-" The boy struggles to speak, then he stops talking at all. He's thinking, considering, and consulting with someone, perhaps?

Damian then feels a firm tug on his cape, and the boy-

And suddenly-

The boy who has been nothing but shy, unsure, and childish—like a lost puzzle amidst all the deadly chaos, violence, blood, and unjust death—is standing up straight behind Damian, his small figure seems to be bigger, grander. The big white cape seems to fit him all of a sudden. And Billy, his vibrant eyes shining like stars on a dark night, looks determined- no, not just determined, he looks like he is about to command Damian, the son of the Demon head, the son of Batman himself.

"Trust me." The boy commands.

His voice is calm and serene. Like he is promising Damian a rising sun tomorrow. Like he is heralding the triumphant end of a war. Like he is simply delivering messages from the Gods.

What can Damian answer to that, if not a simple "Very well."

The boy smiles with relief. His smile is more blinding than the sun itself.

And for reasons unknown to the teenager's foolish heart, Damian wants to drop to his knee and grip that white cape in his hands, and- No… he cannot understand what he wants to do, just yet. But he has stopped worrying about the future, like fog has covered his mind and eyes, and the boy is the only one who can lead him out of it.

"Stay still," Billy orders again, and Damian listens. The boy tiptoes to reach the top of Damian's head, and then he mutters some ancient spell that Damian can not understand.

"What did you just do to me?" Damian asks when it is done.

"A blessing! I already have the cape, so the dark magic cannot touch me, but you'll need that spell to fight. It also ups your strength, speed, and stuff. Very useful! Ha! I feel like I'm using a Pokémon!" The boy tilts his head, 8 degrees to the side, and Damian can now see clearly how Billy's lips are dry and pale from the blood lost and tiredness.

Damian wants to touch those lips. He wants to so desperately that he can barely mutter up a basic answer because he's distracted, "… Is that so?"

"Fight for me, Robin," The boy giggles as he pats Damian's chest, right where his heart is, and together with it, the gilded soulmark that is starting to feel like it's burning on Damian's skin.

Why? Why does Damian feel so hot all of a sudden? Why do those simple words make his blood both boil and run so fast that Damian can now hear the sound of his heart beating so loud it's overriding his mind.

What is wrong with his heart?

What is wrong with him?

Damian has lost track of this situation. Completely.

He feels like a guard dog being ordered to bite.

And instead of hating the thought, his fangs start to itch.

Before he even realizes it, both of them are being surrounded by hundreds of ghosts that want nothing but their lives.

But his mind is calm, and the grip on his sword is firm.

Billy is standing behind him, he's chanting a spell Damian cannot understand. Not meant to understand.

He knows his goals. There are two.

Protect the boy behind him, and kill anything that moves in front of him.

Black blood. Rotten flesh. Broken bones.

Served heads.

A part of Damian is being brought back to life, as he kills more and more—barbaric, cruel, but overjoyed. An unrestrained beast being told to bite, to maim, to kill.

It's simply euphoric.

"Ha… ha… ha…"

Damian's body has grown tired. But his heart and his mind have not.

It doesn't matter.

A pair of hands presses against his back, and Damian immediately stays still. He knows whose hands they are, and he knows what those hands are about to do, to give him. 

Instantly, the endless horde of zombie-like soldiers is blocked off by a pale, white, almost transparent barrier. Those rotten teeth and chipped weapons are mere centimetres away from Damian's eyes.

He does not blink. He has faith in the person behind him.

In no time, Damian can instantly feel his body getting revitalised to the point of almost being brand new. Blood is flowing through his veins, along with it, pure unadulterated magic. It feels like cocaine is being pumped into him.

"My buffs are top-tier, huh?" The boy behind him giggles.

Damian smirks and answers, "There's nothing to complain about."

"Prick!" Billy rolls his eyes as he steps back, far away from the fight.

The barrier slowly moves, shrinking itself to a small dome protecting the caster—Billy. Damian takes one step back, inhales, and jumps straight forward to continue the fight with nothing but a sword stained with black, rotten blood and organs.

They fight for hours.

And hours. 

Damian has never felt such euphoria in his life. 

Until they finally find a ladder leading up. Away from Hell. 

The sun has started to rise, and to Damian's surprise. There are no ghost soldiers on the surface, not one in sight.

"Has the situation been dealt with?"

It's to be expected. The magic users of the League are all talented, after all. And of course, Damian's soulmate, Captain Marvel, is with them. Come to think of it, the boy named Billy shall be an invaluable asset to humanity as a whole if he receives proper teachings from the veteran magic users of the Justice League Dark.

"Hmm, I suppose that is to be expected. Billy-" 

Damian turns around, expecting the boy named Billy to be right behind him.

But instead,

"Billy?" 

He finds no one there.

Captain Marvel, after that incident, has also disappeared from the public's eyes.

Chapter Text

"I told you so,"

"Mary, please, I'm literally dying right now."

"Yes, but still,"

It is a Monday morning. Two weeks after the Ghost Army incident. Billy is lying on his Superman-themed bed. Bedridden. With crumbled tissues stained with dried blood scattered around him.

He's fine. Better. He won't die. He feels better than before, even. The dried blood is from days ago, and definitely not from last night.

"Just go! Mr. and Mrs. Bromfield already paid for your trip to Central City! I will be fine, I promise!" Billy groans as he shifts his body to turn away from his twin sister, who's folding her arms, looking down at her 'younger' brother, who is being a prick right now.

"You're supposed to be with us, and guess what!" The young teenage girl puffs out her cheeks to express her anger—the habit is possessed by both Batsons. "You just had to run down to the sewage of Gotham and save that Robin guy, and got sick!"

"He almost died!"

"You almost died saving him, too!" Mary barks back.

"I had Selene's cape with me, and I could handle myself!" Billy doesn't want to even look at Mary in the face. He knows, down deep in his heart, that she's right and he is just being stubborn. But forgive the two of them, twins are prone to fighting now and then, especially when it comes to Billy's habit of throwing himself into danger blindly.

"But anyone else could've done that-" Mary clicks her tongue. Billy is stubborn when it comes to saving people; she admires it and hates it both the same. Sometimes she wishes her brother weren't such an ideal hero.

"Both you and Freddy couldn't sense magic as well as I, and the other magic users were needed to keep up the magic spell surrounding the whole city. I was the best choice for the rescue mission, I told you that!" Billy is, actually, making some facts, but then again, it's just a barely acceptable excuse that Billy makes up to justify endangering his life to save his soulmate.

Yes, soulmate. No one has known it yet. He cannot even tell Mary. He's too embarrassed about it. Just… embarrassed, in general. Typical teenagers and their tendency to be unreasonably embarrassed about everything and anything.

"Urgh, fine! Keep sacrificing yourself for all I care! I bet Persephone LOVES having you over for teatime!" Mary stomps her feet and yells before leaving Billy's room completely. Oh wait, she comes back once just to stick out her tongue at her sick brother, "I'm going to have so much fun without you! Have fun being sick! Billy!" Mary then finally leaves, with her feet walking a little too loudly, of course.

When the girl finally leaves, Billy exhales in relief.

It's not like he wants to be sick. No one wants to be sick. He's not even sick; he's just bedridden because his magic reserve is depleted, and his magic is, sort of, linked to his soul, so his soul was "kinda" damaged from being overused. And by "kinda", it means "tremendously".

Damian was fine in the end, so it's fine. Billy tells himself. But he was using more magic in one night than the amount an average magic user would use their whole life. Of course, it would take a toll on his soul and body!

To describe it vaguely,

The spell that linked the two dimensions together needed at least 3 high-level magic users to perform, and Billy was doing it alone until sunrise. And he was not just doing one high-level spell; he was doing two at the same damn time; the other spell was an unbreakable barrier that protected both him and Damian. That, and add another 7 uses of a high-level teleportation spell, and of course, Billy's whole magic reserve was reduced to negative, and Billy had to convert his life energy into magic to push on. It's a typical HP to MP situation.

It was insanity.

To any other magic user, it sounds like losing all your limbs and using your bones to crawl forward. Any sane magician would puke at the thought of doing what Billy did. Even the Gods were horrified by it. Except for Hercules, he was impressed.

So it got him sick. Terribly. Luckily for him, Freddy, not Mary, agreed to help him hide it by creating an illusion of Billy's own body that just shows flu symptoms and not every single organ inside him failing one way or another. Mary got into a big fight with Freddy over it, so Freddy is now banned from the house and visiting Billy. For til college.

(It's fine, they still chat and play Roblox together, though)

However, Billy feels a little bad about it, because he knows Freddy has a crush on Mary and now they are fighting. Those two have not spoken one word to another. But Freddy and he both had been on the streets, and they had to learn to hide their sickness out of instinct because- Let's be honest, more often than not, no one would care enough about sick kids who look like they're about to die, anyway. It's just more understandable to hide it than to burden your foster parents with your problems more than you already have.

That's another problem, Billy Batson, the orphan, has on his plate.

Billy has never… connected well with the Bromfields, despite how much Mary has tried to force him to join family activities. So he just, naturally, thinks it is better to give the Bromfields as few problems as possible.

They chose Mary, not him, after all.

And with the family being on a trip to Coast City without him, Billy feels more relief than worry. He's basically recovering well, with the Gods' advice and all. He can skip school and his Captain Marvel duty—Freddy's covering for him. He does nothing but eat chips and play Roblox these days.

It's like his own personal Elysium on Earth. There's literally nothing to complain about! He doesn't know why Mary is still mad at him!

Billy sits up to find some snacks, only to find out his stacks of chips have run out.

Argh. Billy sighs. He remembers Damian's very, very delicious chips, and he sighs harder. Considering what Billy has to go through for him, he thinks he should ask Damian for 50 more bags of chips the next time they meet.

Billy throws himself back to bed.

Speak of Damian-

And suddenly, Billy remembers the teenager's broad shoulder, standing in front of Billy, fighting with only a sword and an unfading smile on his face-

Urgh.

"ARHG! Stupid Robin! Stupid Damian! WHO ALLOWS HIM TO BE THAT COOL?" Billy turns around and screams into his pillows. Luckily, his words are muffled enough to veil his delirious tone.

It takes the boy several minutes to calm down. His face is still buried in his pillows.

Seriously. How can that guy be his soulmate? Billy has thought so hard about it, and he still cannot understand it at all! He's so paranoid, and snobby, and unlikable, and-

"Are you unwell? If so, tell me immediately!" Damian asked Billy, concern and worry laced into every word.

Billy was leaning on the wall, breathless and tired. He had been using too much magic, and it was starting to drain his life. So it worried the older teenager.

"I'm fine… The dark magic has been cleared quite a lot, and I think we can- cough cough,"

The taller boy quickly unseathed his sword and walked toward Billy to put a hand on Billy's hot head. The vigilante's cold hand makes Billy's terrible headache better instantly, so he leans towards it.

"You're burning up. Can you walk?"

"I'm- I'm fine," Billy could hardly say; he could feel another wave of blood deep in his throat, but he kept it down.

"Tt," Damian clicked his tongue, and he picked the tired boy up with just one arm; his other hand was still being kept on his sword.

"Whoa! You- Put me down!" Billy yelped in surprise.

"Save your strength, I will do the walking", Damian sighed, "If you sense any ghosts approaching, tell me, and I will put you down and continue fighting like normal."

"But-but, I'm heavy!"

"Pfft, don't disrespect me. You barely weigh more than feathers to me. I could fight holding like this if you didn't need to stay still for your spell to work. " Damian snorted, but what he spoke next came from genuine concern, "In fact, you're too light. Consider eating more. How can you fight evil if you do not take care of your own body?"

And that's the final verdict. Damian didn't listen to any of Billy's pleas and protests as they carried on like that for a while. And the horrible thing was, it actually helped Billy a lot, not having to walk the long, dreadful path down Gotham's sewage.

And being held like that by Damian's arm felt-

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Billy continues to scream into his pillows.

Solomon: "One thinks our Champion will stay like this for a while."

Translation: Teenage love, huh?

It takes Billy around a whole hour, maybe more, to fully recover from Damian. In fact, he only ever moves from his bed when he's so, so very hungry.

So he comes down the stairs to look for some food; the Bromfields, being good people that they are, have already prepared food for Billy and put it in the fridge; he will only need to microwave them. But Billy just really craves some whipped cream on pies right now, and luckily, the Bromfields also left him some money to spend while they and Mary are away, with a little note that reads:

[I'm sorry you have to stay home :( We really, really, really wish you could come with us! We will bring back food and gifts! Remember to answer your phone when we call, or please text us if you're alright! Tell us if you've eaten or what films or shows you're watching, also! :) We left 100$ in case you want to buy anything! If you need more, just text us, okay?

Just remember to eat three times a day, don't stay up too late, and if you leave the house (only if you really, really need to, don't stay out for too long) remember to lock the door!

If anything happens, tell us ASAP and we will be back home before you can blink!]

Now, Billy feels bad about fighting with Mary earlier. The Bromfields, and Mary wanted to stay home to take care of him, but he tried too hard to push them away, so he felt like they had mistook it for Billy not wanting them around.

Argh, he can be such a prick sometimes. He will join their next trip, he promises, but for now, he really wants that pie with whipped cream on top and some Reese's cup.

So Billy puts on a warm coat, his old jeans and shoes that he somehow hasn't thrown away, and takes the money to have a short trip to the nearby convenience store.

After buying exactly what he needs and some more chips to eat away for the next 3 days, Billy remembers the Bromfields telling him not to stay out for long and just decides it's a good idea to sit on a random bench to eat food. He's being rebellious! To Hell with anyone calling him a goodie two-shoes, he's not!

Achilles: "One thinks-"

Solomon: "It is wise to let the Youth bathe in his impression of a glorious adolescence."

Translation: "Just let him be. He's a teenager. It'll pass."

But of course, nothing ever is easy for Billy.

"Billy, I have found you."

The Fates clearly don't like him, and it shows.

"…" Shiver runs down the young teen's spine. His mind is a little sluggy, and his hearing is currently a little, just a little damaged, but he can clearly identify whose voice it is. Of course, he can.

It is his soulmate's.

Billy stands up, and he opens his mouth-

"No, you're not escaping me."

Just before Billy can teleport away—despite his horrible physical state, he has enough magic to do some spells before meeting Hades and his wife—he can feel a firm pair of arms wrapping around him from behind, lifting him up.

And the spell that was supposed to come out of Damian's mouth stops completely. And the fucking worst thing is, Billy knows Damian is smirking from behind him.

It's easy to understand, really. Billy's teleportation magic is the highest-grade possible, so naturally, he will teleport anyone touching him as well, and Billy cannot do anything about it. It's either 0 or 100.

"Prick!" Billy curses. Of course, Damian knows Billy would stop the spell as soon as Damian touches him, or else he would risk Damian's whole body being scattered in a straight line between where they are right now and where Billy wants to go. It's just that easy to read Billy like an open book. And it's just utter madness that Damian just casually bets his life on how Billy would prefer himself getting caught rather than killing Damian accidentally.

"Ruthlessness is mercy upon yourself, Billy." Damian doesn't let him go just yet, so he turns Billy around, one arm still encasing the younger teen's waist and the other arm retreats back to the sword strapped on Damian's side. "You need to learn to be cruel to your enemy."

But you're not my enemy, Billy wants to say. But then again, considering his past, he does have a reputation of not being very… strict. Even Mary is more strict towards criminals than him. And Freddy just likes practising WWE moves on his enemies.

"How did you find me? Let me go!" Billy tries to struggle, but of course, that's Robin. Robin!

"It is rather easy," Damian pulls out a necklace from one of his endless pockets and shows Billy. The Wizard in training instantly knows what it is.

It is a magical tracking stone that, generally, when fed with magic, will point towards the direction of the target. The rules differ from stone to stone, magician to magician, but from the look of it, Billy can guess Damian's tracking stone uses the target's body part as a catalyst.

"But how did you- Oh right, yeah, of course, you took my hair when we were down in the sewage!" Billy groans. Of course, Damian would secretly snatch a hair off his head because why not, right? "Just in case"? Curse the Bats and their paranoid tendencies. "Why would I be surprised?"

And to top it off, Billy knows to track him through the magical barrier he himself set up, add the distance between Fawcett and Gotham to the mix as well, and the track spell has used more than enough magic energy to light a whole city for 49 nights straight. Where did he get that much magic?

Billy sighs. He rearranges his thoughts and stops struggling; instead, he tries the civil way, "Let me go! I'm not running away! Promise!"

He's just- too heavy! Too… domineering! Getting hugged by him feels like getting grabbed by a Golem!

Solomon: "One thinks you're just shy that your soulmate is hugging you"

Billy completely ignores the old scholar.

Damian huffs. He actually eases up, but instead of gripping Billy's waist, he just casually holds Billy's right wrist instead, still linking their body together. He knows one slip up and he will never see this boy ever again in his life. "I need you to let me know-"

Billy tries to yank his hand away, but of course, that is impossible: "I have the right to remain silent!"

Damian frowns, "I'm not arresting you, idiot! Do I look like a cop to you?"

Black suit. Red gloves. Coldness is leaking out of the Robin's whole body, along with the smell of blood and gunpowder. Damian certainly looks more like a villain than a righteous cop, doesn't he?

So-

"I'm calling the cops then!" Billy yells.

…

Both teenagers stare at each other. In complete silence.

It takes Damian almost a quarter of a minute to finally regain his composure, and he lets out a low snort, "Haha-"

Billy knows it sounds pretty bad, but he doubles down, "Just so you know! Fawcett's cops are really great! Unlike the cops in Gotham!" Forgive the teenager; every teenager is nosey and chronically online at this age, and being chronically online equals scrolling through Gotham's T*ktok to hear the GPD slander from the Gothamites.

"I do not necessarily disagree, but I advise you not to say that to any other 'suspicious individual' from Gotham that is not me," Damian calmly says, "My family, maybe. But certainly not anyone else. Understood?"

"What? Why?" Billy asks.

"Best case scenario, you'll get off with a warning," Damian drags Billy closer to himself, "Worst case scenario, you will have your tongue to eat your chips no longer. And maybe your whole head. Who knows?"

A shiver runs down Billy's spine. He suddenly feels cold. Very cold.

Did Robin bring a piece of Gotham with him? That spell is really hard. And as far as Billy is concerned, people only use it to bring a piece of Holy Lands with them to perform divine spells, and other holy stuff. Why would Damian bring a piece of that cursed land? Wait, maybe that is why-

No.

Billy feels cold because he is just very tired.

The fatigue has once again caught up to Billy, making his head spin and his legs weak. He stumbles back, one step, two steps, and almost falls down, butt to the ground. Lucky for him, Damian's there to keep him on his feet.

"Are you unwell?" Damian frowns; he finally notices how Billy's face is a little paler than usual. Not as much as last night, but- "You have not recovered completely from that night, have you?"

A real genius, huh? Billy thinks. And right after that, he feels an arm wrapping around him, before lifting him completely off the ground.

Deja vu-

No, no, no!

"Let me down!" The boy, again, struggles. He cannot let Robin pick him up like a child like this every time they meet! It's so humiliating! He's literally the Mightiest Mortal! The Champion of Magic! Why is this- this- this normal kid treat him like this! (The Gods want to tell Billy that he is younger, but collectively decide against it for the sake of the romcom.)

Damian takes a look at Billy's reddened face and thinks for a moment that the way Billy's face looks like a tomato every time he's embarrassed is certainly funny. A little cute, maybe. And similar to his soulmate.

"This is more efficient. Lead me to your house. Or your lair."

"I do not have a lair! It sounds evil!" Billy pouts. "And I'm not telling you where my house is!"

"What a pain. Just tell me where you usually rest." Damian rolls his eyes.

"You have no right to know!"

"Either tell me quickly, or you'll be stuck like this until you do," Damian bluntly says, as he keeps Billy tightly in his embrace. One arm is enclosing the teenager's back, hand holding Billy's arm, putting force on his side, and the other arm of Damian is under Billy's leg for extra support. A typical princess kind of carry method. It effectively makes Billy unable to with either his arms or legs.

It feels like having steel wrapped around your body, Billy thinks.

After exactly 30 seconds of silence struggle from Billy, he finally caves. The younger teenager sighs in frustration, "It's a 20-minute walk from here."

"Lead the way."

He knew he should not have involved himself with Robin. Batman is bad enough, but Robin is just worse! Worse! Worst in the world!

From the perspective of the Gods inside the young teenager's head, they all know what Billy is thinking, and they all just collectively cringe and decide that this situation is rather (very) entertaining. Zeus is considering borrowing some (dead) poets from Hades to write plays about them.

The place Billy leads Damian to is certainly not his house, but not a surprise to Damian. A run-down building, with broken lights, water pipes, and mice running wild. Some people are wandering in front of it, certainly not the kind that drives Ferraris and talks diamonds. Despite it, they all seem to be rather… numb to seeing two teenagers, one in weird clothes, walking into the building.

Billy explains to him, "Perception alteration spell. Automatically. And you're holding me, so you're automatically affected, too." Ah, Damian winces. And he remembers how his certain idiot of a soulmate turned himself invisible and rolled around in the zoo pretending to be 007. Can it be that his "Mightiest Mortal" soulmate is less intelligent than this kid?

Let's not think about that too hard.

Again, about the situation, Damian is not disturbed; rather, he just thinks, "So even Fawcett has this side". Why wouldn't it? No matter how bright the rainbows above are, there will always be dirty rain puddles below.

"My room is on the third floor, there's no elevator, though," Billy says. He has made himself comfortable on Damian's arms. It's like having an exclusive human-shaped Uber, actually. This should be what the kings of ancient times felt like.

"You have a room here?" Damian emphasises the word 'have', sarcastically.

"Yes, I even have a guard to protect my stuff. His name is Jerry II the Mouse!" Billy answers. At this point, Damian has doubts about whether Billy is telling the truth or not. The world of magicians has always been confusing, and frankly, maddening to a normal person.

Damian can use magic to some degree, which is rather low compared to the teenager in the red hoodie, but it's only considered a necessary skill to him, and not an all-consuming part of his life, like how the true magic users consider it.

And of course, just like Damian had expected-

There is a grey mouse in front of an almost-broken make-shift door on the third floor that Billy refers to as "Jerry the II". It is shivering like a leaf in front of Damian, with a pair of black pea eyes too big for a normal mouse face that they look like they are crying tears. It's so- It's so small- and vulnerable- and-

"A mouse is actually your guard?" Damian says, disbelief in his voice, yet pure excitement can also be heard in his tone, "This mouse?" 

"Hey! Don't you disrespect Jerry II like that!" Billy yells at him, as a rather big and fat mouse crawls up the younger teenager's hand, "He's a very respectable mouse! He came from a very pristine lineage of magical mouse!"

A very pristine lineage of magical mouse.

Damian has to take a step back to remind himself that all magic users are a little bit insane. And, actually, considering his own experiences with animals, does he have any right to express any protest towards Jerry II? His father literally dresses up like a mouse with wings every night.

A magical mouse actually sounds sensible enough compared to his other pets. And he's incredibly cute. Who knows? Maybe the mouse is an actual well respected magician among his peers. 

"Very well, nice to meet you, Jerry II."

"Say hello to Robin, Jerry II." Billy giggles when he plays with the grey mouse like a stress ball before handing him to Damian. But sadly, the mouse seems terrified to be anywhere near Damian. Billy apologetically tells Damian, who he knows is very fond of animals, "Sorry, Jerry II said you smelled really scary. Like a cat. And a man-eating monsters, which probably eat mice, too."

Damian is getting a little insecure because why do the animals of Fawcett City have so many problems with his smell?

"I don't blame him," Damian says, with barely veiled sadness. The mouse looks so fat, Damian does want to play with him like a stress-ball…

"Don't look too sad," Billy pats Damian on the shoulder before heading inside, with the mouse hiding in his front pocket. "Maybe he'll be less scared of you when he gets to know you more."

Jerry the II takes a small peek at Damian from inside Billy's front pocket, and it immediately squeaks and hides away when Damian scares it with his fangs. 

So cute… Damian vibrates with both excitement and disappointment.

"Let's go, this is my room!" 

The room behind the cheap, half-broken make-shift door is… rather normal.

At this point, Damian has started to expect crazier things from Billy. Like a magical pocket dimension that leads straight to a lair outside of this dimension with ancient statues of monsters and doors leading to other magical dimensions, for example?

But this room just has a single flabby mattress, with a thin, dirty blanket on top, a mini folding table, a water boiler on top, an old radio, some random objects in a basket, and in the cleanest corner in the room with no water dripping down from the ceiling, there are stashes of newspapers and comics placed neatly on top of each other. There's even a raincoat placed upon them just to be sure.

Damian almost asks Billy what is there to guard, but the words are stuck in his throat, and eventually, they die down as he sees Billy quietly covers himself with the thin blanket, on a mattress too mouldy to be usable, shivering with his face pale and cold.

"Alright, I'm feeling better," the boy confidently says, from under the blanket, as he gives Damian a thumbs up, "Ask what you want, but after this, go home! Also, like, I won't answer anything that is too like- uh- confi- confidantal?"

"Confidential."

"Confidential!"

How… weird, and funny. This strange kid used to speak ancient language phrases that sound almost alien to Damian's human ears just days ago, and now he's having trouble with any slightly difficult word there is in English.

Damian looks around one last time to assess the room before sitting down next to Billy, who's folding himself into a ball right now.

There's not even a heater in here. Damian cannot fathom how such a talented magician can live in such… challenging conditions. But then again, he's not one to comment on anyone's choice of methods of living.

So Damian quietly takes a small egg-like device in pure red out of his utility belt, and gives it to Billy, "It's a mini heater. Hold it close to your torso for warmth."

"Ah! Robin tech!" Billy exclaims excitedly. "Whoa! It looks so high-tech! Did you make it?"

"I simply improved the original design. It is on body temperature setting, so it won't burn you accidentally."

Billy eagerly pulls out Jerry II the mouse and lets him hold it instead, "This is so cool! Ha, it looks like a mini Fire dragon egg! I mean, those dragon eggs are not good for warming, though, they are like, lava-hot! But Jerry II can hold this egg! So cute!"

The younger teenager giggles pleasantly as Jerry II seems to melt into the egg device.

"Actually-" Damian says, "It is commonly used to combat Mr. Freeze, so it actually can reach lava level of temperature. And also, it can explode."

Billy swiftly takes the egg off of Jerry II and looks at him in shock, "Why does everything you guys carry around have to have an exploding mode?"

Damian snorts, "Ha, don't worry, without my passcode, it is just a handwarmer. Don't look scared. Do I look like I want to make you and Jerry II explode?"

Billy pouts, his cheeks are puffed out like a puffer fish, "Are you going to say 'If I wanted to, you guys would've exploded by now'?"

"Correct. You're a quick learner." Damian scoffs, and instinctively, he raises his hand to reach for the smaller boy's head and ruffle it.

Billy's hair is not exactly soft and smooth, but rather a little dry and prickly. But Damian does not hate it, despite how it differs from his beloved soulmate's soft, cloud-like hair. If anything, Damian thinks Billy's hair feels like the fur of a stray cat under his palm.

Thus, naturally, Damian pets him like he is petting a fragile, innocent cat—gently, softly, with so much care that one wouldn't believe it comes from the hands that hold swords more often than not.

Strangely, Billy does not try to protest. He just lets Damian ruffle his hair; he leans into it, even. The coldness from Damian's hands soothes a certain fire in Billy's body, the kind that is ever-burning and never-ending.

He doesn't mind at all.

It feels good.

"Ah…" Billy lets out a soft, pleasant noise.

Ah… Ah? AH? AH???

Billy jolts up in the horrifying realization of what he has just done.

Damian, too, looks like he has broken out of the trance.

The two teenagers freeze on the spot.

Jerry the II is still squeaking in Billy's hands, yearning for the warm, red egg-like handwarmer. It sounds particularly loud between the two frozen teenagers.

Zeus: One certainly wants to make a bet on when the son of Bat will figure out how the Fates are admirers of comedy plays.

Translation: Who wants to make a bet when Damian will realize he is our Champion's soulmate?

Solomon: Certainly an unwise action; however, one is no better than any common man. What does the King of Sky have in mind?

Translation: Yes, let's. I like bets. What prizes are we talking about?

Despite the rumbling noises of the Gods betting in the back of his mind, Billy feels so devastated that he may just throw himself out of the window right now (Atlas: Do not do that, boy).

Damian seems to contemplate something before he says, grimly, "Never speak of this again."

Of course, Billy will never speak of this embarrassing event to anyone! Seriously!

"Ob- OBVIOUSLY!"

"Do not yell. You're making it weird."

"What- You spoke first! You're the one making everything weird!" With all the touching, carrying me around, and lovey-dovey stuff- You even touched my thighs during a meeting! In front of Batman! AND SUPERMAN!

Billy wants to yell at Damian, but luckily, the collective effort of the 6 Gods manages to keep the forbidden words from leaving the teenager's mouth.

"Let's get back to business."

It takes another 10 seconds for Billy to calm down, along with his heart and his mind, "FINE!"

Funnily, somewhere along the way, with how blood has been coursing up and down the poor teenager's face, heart, and whole body, he actually feels much better than before, no longer cold, and no longer tired.

It looks like the forceful rushing of blood has sped up the magic generation speed inside Billy's body. Huh, who knew that teenage love could actually heal instead of causing headaches and heartaches?

Damian takes a deep breath before asking,

"Where is Captain Marvel?"

Ah, business.

Jerry the II: 

He's an actual magic mouse, btw. He's considered a Duke in Billy's building colony of mice.  

He's very well fed. So he's very fat. 

Chapter Text

"Where is Captain Marvel?"

Of course, Damian will ask that question. Why wouldn't he?

Billy swallows his own spit. Calm down, Billy, breathe out, breathe in, calm down. You have been through worse. You have been interviewed by Batman and trialled by Gods! A Robin is not scarier than literal Gods, Demons, and Batman!

"Captain Marvel unavailable right now."

Navigate. Adapt. Survive.

Damian has keen eyes, Billy knows he cannot just lie with no thoughts put into it. Keep his heart calm, and his eyes clear.

But it's a tug of war, and the teenager in front of Billy is not unfamiliar with such tactics.

"Do you know where he is?"

"I do." The Gods rumble at the back of Billy's mind. The child should've consulted the Gods first before answering.

"Where is Captain Marvel?" Straight. Bare. With little to no room to divert.

In front of you. Billy wants to answer.

"In Fawcett." Not a lie.

"Where in Fawcett? I need a clear answer, Billy."

But Solomon tells him, let's spin the answer to our advantage first. He is asking where Captain Marvel is, according to Billy's perception and knowledge of space and time. Then tell him, Billy.

"Captain Marvel was wounded 2 weeks ago, in the attempt to save Gotham." That's the undeniable truth. Everyone knows that. "He is currently in his usual place to rest." Not necessarily a lie, Damian just doesn't know he is inside it. "He usually doesn't want people to enter that place."

No lies have come off the younger teenager's tongue.

His heart is calm. His eyes do not divert to anywhere else. And his breathing is normal.

Damian frowns deeply. He can find no sign of deception in either Billy's words or face.

But he also knows that the truth is not necessarily believable. Half the truth is still a lie. He knows that Billy is not that bright on the surface, but there's an air to the normal-looking teenager in front of him that is more complicated than most.

Damian did try to find out more about Billy. Why wouldn't he? Billy's an exceptionally brilliant magic user who has so much potential it's almost blinding to Damian. But the effort was wasted like salt sprinkled onto the ocean.

"Any information about this Billy is tightly locked under an unbreakable magical spell. We have tried our best, but this level of magic is too… much for us."

"Useless imbeciles,"

"With all due respect… This humble servant of yours doesn't think there is anyone alive right now that can do what you have asked of your loyal servants."

Damian's eyebrows knit together.

The more he knows about Billy, the less he understands. To simply find him took a lot out of the magical assets available from the League.

So much mystery. Like a distant figure covered in a thin, yet never-fading layer of fog. But the fog isn't supposed to be safe for prey, is it? The lamb's figure can be hidden, but not the trail of scent it leaves behind.

Damian's fangs itch again. Horribly. Like a hound dog on a leash.

He wants to tear down the layers that cover the little boy's true colours, one by one.

So, for now,

The question is, what to ask next? To prove that Billy has not told him the whole truth?

Damian's forest green eyes stare at Billy's vibrant blue ones, a tug of war that Damian's eager to win.

"And why would I trust you?"

Billy is taken aback by Damian's question. It confuses him. Why has Damian come to Fawcett to find him if he had had no reason to trust Billy?

Solomon calmly tells Billy not to speak, that it is a trap, young Champion. He's a hunter. And you're his prey.

Billy listens.

But the hunter won't stop just because the young lamb doesn't walk into his trap. Damian pushes on.

"I have come here on behalf of the Justice League." Is that a lie? Billy cannot tell. "They are concerned that their alley has not appeared in 2 weeks." Marry and Freddy are still covering his job, properly, right? "They need Captain Marvel, specifically, for a confidential mission about the artefact from two weeks ago."

The artefact. That blasphemous creation. That God-killing weapon.

The thing that was made to kill the Champions of the Gods. Marry. Freddy. And Billy, himself.

"Wait," Billy jerks up, his hand grips Damian's cape with force, his eyes grim, "What about the artefact?"

Damian gives not an answer, but another question, "Who are you to demand answers from me? Robin?"

"Who am I?" The young Champion asks, disbelief in his eyes.

The Mightiest Mortal. The Champion of Gods. The Wizard in training. Of course.

"What relations do you even have with Captain Marvel to demand information from me?" Damian speaks, low, hoarse, and cold. As quiet as a whisper, but as domineering as a command on the battlefield.

That boy was born in blood and death, Billy.

The young lamb stops, right in front of the trap. Its eyes are wary. But it is also too young, too naive. But instinct still saves it. Any prey animal is fortunately hard-wired to be able to sense the smell of Death and sin awaiting them.

So Billy pushes Damian back, with his right hand on the older teenager's chest. Right where Billy knows is inked with his colour.

"No." Such a simple answer. So Billy asks, "You need to leave Fawcett. Right now!"

Ah- Damian grips Billy's arm, not too much, of course, but still, he speaks, voice threatening, "Leave? Who are you to command me, Billy?"

Billy does not have the courage of Achilles with him, but then again, he has the courage of himself, of Billy, the orphan that was chosen by the Gods.

"Who are you to demand any answer from me, then, Robin? Do you even know Captain Marvel? Who he truly is?"

Jerry the II squeaks nervously between them. Like a child of divorce.

Damian's eyes wince. For just a moment too short, his expression changes. And Solomon tells the young Champion that Damian has hesitated.

And with that, the battlefield has tilted, towards the little Champion, fortunately.

It has become a stalemate situation.

Push on, the Gods tell him, so Billy persists, "What are you to Captain Marvel?"

The answer to that question, of course, Billy knows.

He can feel it too—The burning feeling of a soulmark behind him, a little below his nape, conveniently hidden behind the fabric of his red hoodie. That horrible, haunting mark that is too heavy for a child to bear.

Less of a promise of a soulmate. More of a prophecy being burned into Billy's skin the day he was born.

[Fate is cruel beyond comprehension]

Tragedies after tragedies…

This person in front of Billy cannot possibly understand the weight of his own words being carved into somebody else. To Damian, they are just random gibberish words spoken out of shock.

Ah,

Teenagers.

Such emotional creatures.

"I am his-" Damian almost blurts out the true answer.

Fortunately, he has held himself back.

Unfortunately, it is because he has noticed a dark figure crawling down from above, right outside of Billy's window.

This is the third floor.

"… Billy," Damian whispers cautiously. It looks like a corpse. A corpse trying to move without any idea how a living human would behave.

"What-?!" Billy barks back, but Damian quickly pushes him down to the mattress, his left hand on the teenager's face, and his right hand pulling his sword out in complete silence. The smaller one cannot even move properly under the bigger vigilante's weight. The only thing Billy can think of is how Damian smells like oud and warm spices, mixing with a hint of metal and leather. Heck, even how he smells is cool!

Damian whispers, "There's something outside".

The dark figure outside the window moves, or slithers, like a legless animal.

Any ongoing conversation has to stop. They have another problem to deal with in the meantime.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Sure enough, the corpse starts to knock. As if Billy would open the door.

"Do you have any idea what it is?" Damian asks, calculating the path to get Billy and Jerry out of the room ASAP and evacuate the building just in case. Billy stays silent for a bit, observing the centipede-like corpse outside.

After identifying what it is, the most 'child-friendly' hero on Earth quietly sighs.

And he curses, "Shit." Even Damian is surprised; one of his eyebrows slightly raises.

It's fine, it's alright. He's not 'Captain Marvel'. He's not a paragon of hero anymore! No one's gonna cancel him on Tw*tter over cursing just a little bit! No child is going to cry just because their beloved hero is a little vulgar one time! He's just Billy, now! Billy Batson! A nameless orphan! YES!

Back to the main topic-

There is a reason Billy doesn't want to out himself as a magic user. Or to try to use magic at all to fight evil entities. As of now.

It is rather simple.

He's the Wizard in training.

And let's just say the title, to an average mythical monster, it sounds like "double cheese crust pizza with extra pepperoni" or something of the same nature. Monster floods to him like moths to flame, except that there are just too many moths that they can actually extinguish the flame, which is Billy, which means they are going to kill him and eat him alive.

"That's an Eidolon, urgh, yucky," Billy expresses his visible disgust towards the creature outside. "It's urgh, like a ghost, I guess."

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The knocking sound persists. The corpse outside has started to become impatient.

"Oh, stop knocking, we all have ears!" Billy yells at the ghost. Even Jerry the II squeaks louder to support him. Damian is not sure whether some mouse squeaking can ward of evil or not, but he appreciates Jerry's effort, anyway.

"Is it dangerous?" Damian looks deeply troubled that Billy is very calm right now.

"Not necessarily," Billy stands up to move towards the window, but Damian follows him closely, sword still in hand. It feels like having a guard dog, Billy thinks. "They a spirits of dead people that are not yet delivered to the afterlife because they either do not have coins to pay Charon, or still have unfinished business."

"Ghost. Right." Damian exhales. He hates things he cannot slash.

"Yea, they are particularly very weak. Even Jerry the II can banish them!" Billy raises the little mouse in his hands. Jerry the II squeaks viciously. Damian winces, doubting the latter phrase.

"Are they here for you?"

"Seems so. They seem to have sensed that I am kind of weak right now. " Billy awkwardly nods, "I am normally here after a battle, but I am kinda out of juice right now, so… I forgot I put down the barrier around here to save my magic. That's why that thing is outside the window, I guess." That's why he has to stay at the Bromfields, or 'home', instead. The barrier there is made by Mary and Freddy. Dang, he should've been more careful. "Welp, eating me helps them evolve, so-"

"Evolve?"

"Yeah, like Pokémon! They will evolve into Ghost Overlord! And after the Ghost Overlord, there's Ghost God! At Ghost God evolution, they gain the 'Blasphemy' trait and deal double damage to divine beings!"

"By eating you?" Damian has to turn on his extreme-detective mode just to see if Billy is telling the truth, but sure enough, there's no sign at all of a single lie. '"Billy, I cannot stress enough that-"

SCREEEEEEEEK!

A high-pitched howling sound erupts from the wretched, dark figure of a corpse outside, causing the fragile window of this run-down building to break into dust. Jeez, just how run-down is this building?

Luckily, Damian manages to cover Billy and Jerry inside his cape just in time. From under the cape, Damian can hear muffled noises like "Oh Hera!" and "That's my window, c'mon!".

The creature crawls inside, yes, crawls; the rest of its body is now revealed to be a joint body of endless corpses being stuck together with only broken, twisted legs and arms poking out of it, trying to grab onto anything to crawl. It looks like a centipede—but instead of the carefully 'science-powered' and crafted version of 'centipede' from the film with the same name, the creature just looks like a hellish result of an act of blasphemy to the Gods, life, and existence itself.

In short, the creature looks like it crawls out of a bad body horror movie.

The sound coming off of it is even more horrid, from one of the headss on the creature's body, a voice that sounds like something is using the sound cord of a human to mimic us, to try to communicate with us can be heard, "High Priest…flesh…a blessing… for us…divine…divine.divine.divine.divine."

Oh,

Not friendly. Got it. Like, of course it is not friendly!

"Yup, that thing definitely wants to eat me!" Billy peeks out his head from under Damian's cape and nods. Damian is almost flabbergasted by how this kid is acting so casual in front of such… horrors beyond comprehension like this. If the situation were not so dire, he would've asked the boy what life he had been living until now.

Before Damian can say anything, Billy already bites one of his thumbs til the point of bleeding, and swiftly presses it to the ground.

What is it even for, Damian wants to ask. But his whole vision is suddenly altered if he has walked into another dimension altogether. The air suddenly feels so cold. And everything, everything around him begins to crack into a million pieces just like the window getting turned into dust right beforehand. But this time, everything is that window.

"What-" Damian mutters, hardly one word, before his vision is altered again, his whole vision is consumed in white and gold. Out of instinct, he yells, "BILLY!" His hands try to reach for something, anything in the endless white that is in front of his eyes.

Fortunately, a hand grabs Damian's own.

And the vast whiteness that has consumed him died down. Like a thick layer of fog getting dispersed, revealing to Damian the sight that is no different from before. He's still inside Billy's room, in a run-down apartment in Fawcett, with the same objects lying around that he spotted before: comics, a radio, a folded table, and barely anything else.

Damian realizes he's half-kneeling on the ground, with blood pouring out of his nose. In front of him, from inside Billy's front pocket, Jerry's two pea-like eyes look at him with concern. And the one who's holding his hands is, of course, Billy. The teenager is standing in front of him, his hands are grabbing Damian's trying to ground him, to comfort him.

"Billy…?" Damian can hardly speak.

"Sorry, I guess the first time getting teleported to this dimension can be a little uh… uncomfortable," Billy smiles gently, and Damian can feel the other boy's gentle fingers on his face, wiping the blood from his nose off for him. "Don't worry, you'll get better. Even Jerry can travel back and forth with no problems, now."

"What…What happened? What did you just do? Where are we?" Damian frantically grips Billy's hands. Something inside him nags at him, condemning himself for daring to lose sight of the other boy for even just one moment. Many, many things can happen in just mere seconds. Billy could've died. What then? What if Damian opens his eyes again, only to see this boy in pieces in front of him? Turned into just flesh and blood on a plate for monsters to devour? What- What then…? The soulmark on Damian's heart suddenly aches—the kind of ache that drills into one's bones and soul—for no reason at all.

Billy, taken aback by how Damian is acting, awkwardly explains, "I- I… There's a magic circle in the building… I just need a little of my blood to activate it, then it'll transport me and anything monsters inside to somewhere called the 'in-between'. Because it's in between the dimensions, get it?" Billy waves his hands around, trying to explain where they are, "In the in-between, everything is identical to our world, but no people are living in here, only monsters. Normally, I go here alone, or with Jerry, to defeat monsters and come back, but you never let go of my arm so- Seriously, I'm not running away, stop holding my arms so tight! It hurts!"

Damian exhales in relief, knowing this boy is alright, just… somehow, he now has another red cape wrapped around him, with a round pin keeping the cape on the boy's small shoulder, decorated with golden cords that glow like they are made from sunlight. They probably are. It looks… a little similar to the shade of red on Captain Marvel's suit. Are they made from the same material?

Damian's instinct is telling him something. It demands the answer to the question of,

What is the connection between Billy and Captain Marvel?

"… Billy, answer me-" Before Damian can finish his sentence, again, another screeching sound erupts in the air.

SCREEEKKKKKKK

Oh, Hera, this monster's so annoying!

"Ah, holy moly, it's coming back! Heck!" Billy turns to the source of the sound, right outside the window that's still intact inside the in-between. The boy then turns around and takes Jerry out of his front pocket and places it into Damian's hands, "It's dangerous here, take Jerry! He can protect you!"

Jerry the II? Damian is dumbfounded by the statement, but Jerry the II inside his left hand seems to be overly confident… The little mouse squeaks bravely, like he's telling him something.

"Jerry the II is telling you to trust him! He's very strong!" Billy nods, "Of course he is. I raised him myself! He's my familiar!"

"High Priest…divine.divine.divine.divine…" The chilling calling voice of the creature is right outside the window, again, but this time, perhaps it is because of the unknown rules of the in-between, the voice has a round of haunting echoes following right behind it.

"Let's go! I know how to deal with it, but like, I am VERY bad at fighting in tight spaces!" Billy nervously says and drags Damian towards the door. But of course, his body is much, much slower than the trained-from-birth vigilante, so of course, the only logical conclusion Damian has is- "SERIOUSLY!?" Billy yelps, "Do you have to carry me like this every single time?!"

Damian scoffs, "Yes. You're slow." Does Billy even have to ask?

But with the vigilante's legs and arms that are frankly too strong for a 16-year-old, they are much, much faster, against Billy's will.

Heck,

He even gets the front row to witness a nocturnal vigilante dropping down from a 3-story building. And by front row, it means right in Damian's arms.

"WAAAAAAAA!" Billy screams, louder than the monster right behind them, maybe. What is he screaming for, anyway? He also likes to jump from high places down and screams 'shazam' just before he touches the ground for extra dramatic effect. But unfortunately, if he turns to Shazam now, he will die, and possibly both Jerry the II and Damian also, so of course, he's scared, and people like to hold on to everything they can grip when they are scared. In this case? Billy's hugging Damian's neck like there's no tomorrow.

Oh Gods,

Please bless our young Champion. Well, they are already doing it, actually. Still-

"Stop screaming, I'm not dropping you." Damian quietly complains as he shoots his Batarang forward. The device plunges itself into a wall of a building near them, effectively pulling both teenagers and a mouse up and away from their gruesome death.

Another problem arises when Billy feels that they are heading towards a wall almost too quickly, even Jerry II, the powerful magic mouse, squeaks in fear of colliding with the wall. But who is Robin? Are they even aware of who is carrying them? Damian uses his legs as a contact point and withstands all the colliding force on his own. Immediately, the three stop mid-air, sideways, on a wall, with almost no sound whatsoever.

A gentle landing.

The rope releases, and Robin brings the two trembling magic creatures down to the ground below.

"What do you have to fear? I have told you I would not drop you." Damian sighs as he puts Billy to the ground, and the teenager almost immediately stumbles down to hug it.

"Holy moly oh sweet Gaea…" Billy quietly prays to the Gods… "It's easy for you to say! I do not go fly and do back flips in the air every night like you!" Wait, he actually flies through the air every day! But- well, it doesn't count! He has the courage of Achilles with him! A voice can be heard from the back of his mind, Achilles is comforting him. Billy guesses the courage of Achilles is fairly unnoticeable in combat until it actually disappears, and apparently, the courage of Billy Batson does not cover fear of heights!

"That's pathetic." Damian frowns, "You should train more."

"I AM training!" He does. Billy genuinely does train a lot, okay? He's only taking a break right now. And it's because of the dickhead in front of him! Urgh, he should not have gone and rescued this prick!

Luckily for Billy,

SCREEEKKKKKKK

He's in his turf.

The monster already catches up to them, despite looking fairly slow with its creeping.

The monster, now that they both have a clear sight of it, is easily 50 metres long. Should they call it and 'it' or 'they', well, it doesn't matter. Billy stands up, and thank the stars they are in a community park, now, with plenty of space to work with. Billy fears casting a spell inside an enclosed space can harm both him and Damian, but with an open space with no people around like this? It's free real estate, really.

Two weeks' worth of magic should be enough to defeat it.

"Oh, I'm gonna kick your ass so bad you're gonna wish you had stayed with Hades instead!" What a typical teenage thing to say. Damian rolls his eyes. Billy then turns around and orders, "Jerry, barrier! Damian, stay inside Jerry's barrier!"

Damian-? But he has never told Billy his name. The Robin frowns. But that can be dealt with later. Damian realizes that Jerry has already crawled onto his shoulder. With a determined squeak, Jerry the II actually starts to float up, and a bright barrier is created around him. The barrier looks strangely like a piece of cheese, though, but it expands and expands until it covers Damian and him inside. Damian clicks his tongue, but he decides to step back, away from Billy.

He has worries, of course, but he knows better than to become a well-versed magic user at work.

The monsters made up of hundreds of wandering souls have finally arrived at the park. The moment it steps into the park, the air temperature instantly drops several degrees. The smell of rotting flesh fills the air. And the eerie noise of dead souls crying, and begging to be freed from their hunger, as in, to eat Billy's flesh and soul. Even Damian feels disturbed looking at that monstrosity.

But Billy, being the veteran Champion of Magic that he is, has seen these types of monsters too many times before; he just screams as he points at the biggest body, right in the front, at the top of the centipede-like creature, "You! Yea, you! The ugliest one! Do you know who I am? I'm so snitching on you to Hades! You're going to jail, bitch!"

… Well, he may not be looking like a respectable Champion of Magic right now.

Or, as far as Damian's concerned, a 'High priest' of the Gods? What looks dignified and respectable about this teenager, except for his overwhelming power, anyway? Tt. Still, Billy, to Damian, looks rather amusing right now. A little cute, maybe. Like a stray orange cat with all of his fur prickled up, hissing at a scary big dog.

Except that this certain stray cat actually has a LOT of fight in him. Or in this case, magic.

Several 'explosions' erupt in the air; Damian calls them as such, but they do not produce heat or any sound at all. Rather, they look like big golden dots of paint that get dropped into a painting to give it light, to give it contrast, it seems. Like the Night Sky painting of Vangogh, maybe? Damian blatantly stares at the battle in front of him, analysing it. Sure. But also—not that Damian's admitting it—admiring it. Those sparks of light can easily make the stars above in the sky pale in comparison to them. He has heard of ancient magic, faced it, been defeated by it, and overcome it, in some cases. But he has never thought they would call ancient magic by the word, "Beautiful…"—Damian cannot help but say it out loud.

The golden sparks bloom in the air, under the dark sky, on the abomination of a creature that is both twisted and broken. Light and dark. Divinity and blasphemy. Everything creates such an eye-pleasing visual that Damian suddenly wants to paint it, with his pencil, with his brush strokes. To preserve the moment, perhaps? What is a painting if not the desire of an artist to immortalise what they deem as beautiful? And in the middle of the painting, there would be a little dot of red. Pure red. Not watered-down. Not mixed the kind of red that has always been used to draw the noblest individuals of humanity, across time, across nations and religion. The kind of red that commands attention, respect, and worship.

Damian wants to paint it. He wants to paint the scene. And he wants to paint Billy.

With the colour red.

Red. Pure red. Blinding red. The kind that signals royalty, glory, and divinity.

Damian doesn't know why his heart is beating faster than normal. Or why is his face so hot? Or why does his hand itch so bad? And why are his feet so restless? He wants to step out of this barrier. To be closer to the red figure that is floating through the air in front of him.

Red. Pure red. Blinding red. The kind of red that is-

That is when Damian hears it,

"Damian,"

Someone is calling for him. A voice so familiar. A voice so dear to Damian that he will be able to regconize it, even in death.

From behind him, not so far away, but not so near, in the big water fountain behind him.

"Damian, my love,"

His beloved is calling his name.

"Help me," A hand comes out of the fountain, covered in that same shade of red that he has been seeking for days and nights. It reaches towards him. Beckoning him. Bewitching him. "Help me, my love,"

Damian's instinct tells him there is something wrong. Why would Captain Marvel be here? In this place, right behind him, like this?

The hand extends to an arm, and then the whole body. And soon, Damian can see it, Damian sees him—his beloved, Captain Marvel—crawling out from under the water of the fountain, looking as alluring as the last day Damian saw him. Still, the shining black hair is as soft as a cloud. Still, the vibrant blue eyes have a whole sky in them. Still, the ever-smiling face that is so warm and inviting.

His instinct, his mind, and everything that was trained and wired into the brain of the Robin tells him no. But another part of him, the foolish and love-sick heart that is so ill from missing his love, is telling him otherwise, that 'maybe, the Captain is trapped in this dimension' and that 'maybe, Fate is being kind to him'.

What ifs?

Perhaps, it is the most dangerous question one weak man can ever ask himself.

"My Damian, help me out of the water, please," His love gently asks him. His arms open wide. He is asking Damian, begging him, even. And who is Damian, if not a pathetic devotee of love? Of the almighty Aphrodite? He would run towards Hell and crawl out of it, so long as his soulmate demands it from him. "It's cold here, Damian. Warm me up. Please. Hug me. Please?"

"… Captain…" Damian gulps. His whole body slowly turns around. Against the desperate squeaks of Jerry the II.

"Please help me, Damian,"

Well, it doesn't matter anymore. Sorry Jerry.

"I need you, my love,"

Damian may just be as foolish as the poet named Orpheus. But then again, can you blame him? Any robin would yearn for Spring.

Damian walks towards the marble-white fountain. The Captain in front of him smiles brightly, with his face a little reddened. Their hands touch, and the Captain tenderly caresses his face with so much love that it is intoxicating to the young teenager. Damian likes it so, he likes everything about the Captain. His face. His voice. And the colour of red he has on his face whenever he's embarrassed. So adorable. Damian wants to kiss it every time. He almost lost his life, thinking he would never get to kiss that face, those lips, and everything under the red fabric wrapping around his beloved's body.

So he leans forward, towards the face that has been haunting him for the last two weeks, keeping him awake til sunrise.

"Can I kiss you?" Damian asks. "Please-" He mutters. Tenderly, pathetically, like a good dog begging for a treat, a reward, a compliment. His grip on the Captain's hand tightens shakily. Damian has never felt this desperate before, but he does not care. A horrid heat is consuming his mind, his heart, and his body. Everything seems to be burning. His brain, his chest, and down his loins.

The Captain's vibrant, gentle blue eyes are not helping at all. It makes Damian's throat dry. It makes Damian crave more than what he is being given.

"Of course, Damian." The Captain answered the desperate Robin with his lips. Oh, his plump and soft lips. Damian wonders if they feel like clouds on his skin. The Captain was made from magic, after all. If Diana was made from clay, then surely, a servant of Zeus should be made from cloud, isn't it? "You can do anything you want to me, to my body, anything, after you jump into the water, with me."

And doesn't it sound incredibly sweet?

"DAMIAN! DON'T"

Ah-

Red.

Damian once wondered whether the Captain wore red to hide his own blood in a battle. It was a silly question. But later on, Damian learned that the Captain's body doesn't bleed red. It bleeds the colour of lightning, instead. Golden.

Then why is he seeing red blood from the Captain's neck? Where has his head gone?

Oh, right, his beloved's head has been blown off by a blooming spark of light. And his head is falling into the water?

Ah- Down in the water, huh?

The Captain's body, without a head, is slowly falling, the hands that are caressing Damian's face have lost their strength, but Damian still holds onto them. Refusing to let go.

Well, it doesn't matter, anyway. His beloved has asked him to jump in the water with him beforehand, and if it meant they could unite in Elysium, then who is Damian to refuse?

"FUCK! ROBIN! DAMIAN! STOP!"

Damian can hear someone calling for him. But it doesn't register to him who is calling him. Someone important… perhaps. He finds himself not hating that voice. He likes it, even, it makes him laugh, which is rare. But unfortunately, he has somewhere else to be.

Down in the water.

Damian can see another Captain Marvel, alive and smiling, staring at him from under the water. Weird, there can only be one Captain in this world, can it not? He's holding his dead body right now. Then who is smiling at him from under the water?

The new Captain tells him, No, sings to him, "Help me, my love. Kiss me. Hug me. Have your ways with me. Anything you like. Anything you want. You can do it to me. To my body. Damian. Damian."

Something at the back of his mind tells him that he has made a mistake. But it doesn't matter now, one of his legs is already under the water. And he can see arms reach out of the water to grab it. One by one. All wearing the same shade of red that he loves so dearly.

What an end, being embraced and eaten alive by whom he loves so dearly. Pathetic. But fitting. 

"DAMIAN!"

And then, all the Captain Marvels in his vision look frightened and disperse altogether like a school of fish seeing a shark. Like something from behind him has scared them away. Why? What has scarred my soulmate? My all-mighty powerful soulmate. 

A red chain wraps around Damian, pulling him backwards, down to the ground. The chain's colour of red is darker, deeper, and more gruesome than the bright red that has been haunting his mind for days and nights. It is the colour that Damian has been familiar with since birth, it seems—the colour of blood. Warm. But haunting. 

A figure enters Damian's vision—a small, skinny, and scrawny boy, who looks pale and terrified. Shaken to his core. Trembling like a small leaf. 

But that boy is holding the chain that is wrapping around Damian's neck. Keeping him down like a bad dog which has run away.

In between his short breaths, the boy curses, "I- fuck- You- Were you deaf? You almost- ha… ha… You almost got killed-"

Damian tries to stand up, to shake the boy off his body, but the chain tightens around his throat, and the revered vigilante feels all of his strength has left his body in an instant.

"Stay down, Robin," Billy orders him, trying to be as threatening as he can possibly be, with one leg stepping on his stomach.

A chain made to subdue? What a terrible creation. But then again, a weapon is only as strong as the person wielding it.

Some light starts to come back to Damian's mind. But his hazy brain does not care enough about almost dying, or that all the blood needed for a brain to function has somewhere else to go. Down under.

"What a pathetic attempt to intimidate me," Damian says, his voice low and hoarse. He does not sound like the one getting stepped on. Right then, he sounds like a predator, circulating his prey as it gives its prey useless advice to stay alive, knowing full well it's going to bed with a full stomach.

"What-" Billy is taken aback, and a little angry, even. Then, he feels Damian grabbing his ankles. Surely, the vigilante has lost all of his over-the-top strength, but it doesn't mean that he is weak and defenceless. Billy tries to move his foot away, thinking the Robin is furious that he is stepping on him, but instead-

Damian pulls Billy's foot down, against his chest, in the middle, on his breastbone, carefully evading the soulmark on his left chest, right on his heart.

"If you really want to appear to be threatening, mean it," Damian commands, like he is not the one being chained right now. Such a daring attitude that can only come from someone who has lost their mind. By love. By lust. Doesn't matter. Damian feels like a certain heat is burning him from the inside out, from his heart, maybe? But surely, under his belt, down his groin. The kind of frustrating heat that he would much prefer to pour into his soulmate's body and not anywhere else. But the Captain is not with him now. How frustrating. So he wants to resolve it in some other way, fighting, perhaps? Who is there to fight if not Billy? "Press down harder. Put your whole weight into it."

Billy, frightened by the demand, tries to step away frantically, but Damian's holding his leg, and he just won't let go. If he cannot step back, should he step forward? And step on Robin? The young teenage boy cannot understand what has gotten into Robin, into his soulmate. His heart never gets a break at this point; now it beats dangerously fast for another entirely different reason than before.

"I said, put more force into it," Damian grits his teeth, and Billy, in the heat of the moment, does exactly what the other boy commands of him.

More force. All of it. But then again, Billy can only do so much. He barely weighs anything at all to the Robin, already. What more is there to give? What more can Robin demand from him?

More.

Frustrated by such a weak reaction, Damian pulls the boy down by Billy's pants, making the smaller, lighter teenager fall on top of him.

He craves contact. He craves something warm, living, and breathing pressed against him.

Their bodies no longer have distance between them. Their legs tangled. And their hearts can feel each other's fast beat.

Billy tries to struggle. He pushes against Damian's left chest to get up, but the effort is futile. Instead, a thought crosses his mind that where he puts his right hand, under there, just layers of fabric away, is the soulmark that connects them both. The hilarious soulmark that started all of this.

If they hadn't met at all, Billy wonders if Damian would've died that day, without him.

The thought scares him. And the engravings in the colour of blood on his nape ache. The kind of ache that rots not one's skin, but deep in one's bones and soul.

And maybe, maybe Damian shares the same pain with him, maybe their soul are resonating, that Billy is seeing something shifting on Damian's face. Has he realized something? Has he regretted anything? Billy cannot know yet. But Billy can feel the heat coming from the Robin's body, and it's starting to burn him, too.

He is scared. He is. But his body, somehow, has lost all of its strength to struggle, to fight. Or rather, Billy's body enjoys being embraced by Damian's arms. Since when has it become like so? Billy cannot tell. But he feels content letting Damian hold him like this. The Robin's arms, despite the situation, are not hurting Billy in any way at all, and his fingers are on his back, and one of Billy's arms, carefully evading anywhere that is a little too intimate. Though Billy doesn't mind if the vigilante acts a little more naughtily with him, like two weeks ago. He was just surprised; he did not hate it. He wouldn't mind it if Damian had just asked. And he wouldn't mind if Damian's hands wandered on his thighs, and maybe a little in between his legs right now.

Billy's own thoughts scare him a little, but in the heat of the moment, right after a battle, right after seeing his soulmate almost get eaten alive, those troubles are a little too trivial, aren't they? So Billy stops struggling; he has used too much magic, he is bleeding from his arm, and he is tired. Very, very tired. So he rests his head on Damian's chest, listening to the other boy's heartbeat.

But the other teenager is not getting comfortable, like Billy. The moment Billy drops his head down on his chest, Damian freezes up like a deer in the headlights.

Apricot, Osmanthus wine, and a hint of spring flowers.

The body inside his arms smells so familiar to him. Yet, it feels so different…

So fragile. So light. So soft and warm. So small, as well. Just enough to fit inside his arms. Against his torso, head on his chest, and one hand on his beating heart. Their bodies fit against each other so, so well.

Damian's breath becomes restless, and the Robin, against his own will, realizes something he still has not gotten familiar with. Something that he knows every teenager goes through. Something he once had the confidence to think he could control.

Fuck,

He's hard.

And the worst thing yet, Damian doesn't know whether he is hard from being bewitched by sirens pretending to be his soulmate, or he is hard because of Billy.

If Damian had had the wisdom of Solomon, the old scholar would tell him that to doubt is to know the answer. But the teenager doesn't have a wise old man following him around all the time; he only has his mind, his heart, and his dick to think with. And all of those things are confused together. Except Damian's dick. That thing clearly knows what it wants.

But luckily, Damian is anything but a beast without restraint, so with the last fragments of rationality, he manages to calm himself down after some breathing exercises, and of course, dissociating and thinking about his soulmate hugging him and patting him on the head.

It only takes 15 minutes. Maybe 20 minutes. The normal length of time, of course, yeah, definitely not too long. Definitely not the normal time for a raging boner to die down.

"Billy, I need to clarify something." Damian, with his eyes still aiming for the sky, in order to avoid any type of eye contact with the young wizard on his body—who's still holding the chain on his neck—says, "I know my actions have been confusing. But I need to clarify that I already have someone in my heart. He is my soulmate. And even though your company has been better than I expected… I think we need to keep some distance. I don't want my soulmate to think that we are involved in inappropriate ways."

… Weird.

The talkative teenager should've said something by now.

Damian uses one of his elbows to push his own body up, one hand still on Billy's back.

"…"

Ah… Billy has fainted because of the loss of blood.

The chains around Damian's neck are linked directly to the boy's right wrist, like a vein of blood taking the form of a chain. A chain of subdution made from its caster's blood. Really a terrifying creation. Damian carefully pulls the chain, but it burns his hands immediately. And the boy in his arms winces, seemingly because of pain.

"Billy," Damian tries to call him, but it seems futile. This won't be good. How can he wake up if he keeps up this kind of high-grade spell even when he's passed out? Will the chain drain his blood til there's nothing left? Will he die?

The heat quickly gets replaced by the rising feeling of dread inside Damian.

Damian carefully analyzes the area surrounding them. He recalls being bewitched by those enchantress-type monsters, possibly sirens. What other monsters can possibly reside in this realm? And how strong are they? He does not know. A warrior without information is no different from being blind.

Coldness returns to the vigilante's mind and heart, out of urgency, out of anxiety, and fear.

The blood chain is still on his neck. He cannot fight against anything in this state. There's no way to communicate outside of this magic realm that is disconnected from any other dimensions and world. They are somewhere akin to the purgatory—A place of wandering monsters and lost souls.

And Damian knows the one in his arms right now is smelling particularly divine to those monstrosities, which will surely appear in no time.

How can he keep the two of them safe until Billy can wake up? If he can ever wake up again, at all. The boy may have spent his last ounce of magic saving him.

This is his mistake. This is his own wrongdoing. His mind was so weak that he had become a burden. And for that mistake, he will possibly pay with his life, sure, but also Billy's.

"Tt," The young vigilante clicks his tongue in frustration.

Which God should he pray to? Or which demon should he sign a contract with? It doesn't matter. He needs to fix this. He cannot let Billy die here. He was dragged into this mess because of him, even if Damian dies, he needs to fix his mistake. What can he do?

What can he possibly do?

He-

"Squeak!"

A tiny squeaking voice.

"Jerry the II?! Where have you been?" Damian inhales, trying to look for his tiny body somewhere on the ground. But Jerry the II, the smart magic mouse that he is, excitedly climbs out from Billy's front pocket and onto his owner's listless body to make himself known to the vigilante.

"Squeak!" Jerry proudly squeaks in front of Damian. It seems like the mouse has always been inside Billy's front pocket. The two teenagers just hugged each other so tight that Jerry the II kind of passed a little bit from the lack of oxygen until now. Luckily, he wasn't a hamster, or else Persephone would've had a new mouse to guard Tartarus.

"Jerry the II, can you take us back to the real world?" Damian carefully lifts the small mouse with one of his hands. His voice is incredibly gentle. "I would buy so much cheese for you if you could."

And of course, as the magic mouse that is the loyal servant of the High Priest of the Ancient Gods, Jerry the II determinedly nods. Jerry the II cares a lot about Billy, after all, and the new friend of his owner! The new friend who seems a little scary at first, but has promised him a lot of cheese!

Damian almost lets out a laugh, but before he can comment on Jerry's adorable face, his vision is broken into a million pieces of glass again. And right after it, a dreadful noise of screaming can be heard, like the scream of a banshee, coming from somewhere far, but close, signalling death and danger. That, getting paired with the broken noises of the whole world, almost tears his head into two. Damian feels like his whole body is torn apart into a million pieces, along with the in-between world, and after getting tossed and turned around like cheap packages being delivered through worlds after worlds, and finally, he is finally tossed back into his own world, but barely put back together right, piece by piece.

Billy teleporting him feels like a first-class luxurious experience in comparison.

They are now back on Billy's cold and hard mattress.

"Urgh," Damian almost pukes, but he fortunately manages to control himself in time.

Jerry is still on top of Billy, but he seems out of breath. The poor mouse topples over, almost rolling down to the ground if not for Damian catching him in time.

The chains around Damian's neck has also disappeared, maybe one magic has cancelled another? Damian lifts up the other boy's right hand and exhales in relief when he sees that Billy's wrist has healed itself up and no longer looks torn open like before.

Argh… it seems like travelling being worlds is hard for everyone.

Damian finally allows himself to relax. After facing death one, or twice too many times that day. He seriously contemplates whether Gotham or Fawcett is more dangerous. Gotham may have worse citizens, and the Gate of Hell underneath, but at least the Gate is closed. Fawcett, on the other hand, would have a mythical monster running rampant problem if it were not protected by its heroes, the Marvel family. And honestly, Damian thinks Gotham would be safer in this case. At least he can fight off some knives and guns…

Sirens, on the other hand…

Getting bewitched by Sirens has traumatized Damian a little bit.

Damian's whole body slumps down, almost melting into the cold and hard mattress below. After whatever has happened, Damian thinks it's as soft and comfortable as his silk bed at home. Seriously.

"Ha…" He sighs.

And with Billy sleeping on him, and Jerry the II sleeping next to them both, it's hard to fight off some earned sleep. Not that he has done much today, sadly. Damian thinks he should bring the magical sword he has the next time he visits Fawcett. And the protecting amulet. And the magical catalyst. And-

The twin brother of Death, Hypnos, is no less strong than his dear brother. Everyone has to die at one point in their life. But everyone has to sleep every day. One may say Hypnos's grip on living beings is even more powerful.

Nonetheless,

Even the fearless and scary Robin has fallen asleep.

Luckily for the three of them. The night will pass with no more problems.

In his deep sleep, Damian looks at his rankings of what he likes on his soulmate's body.

Butts, boobs, and thighs? Sure, but there's a sudden option of 'legs' popping up, and Damian is not sure where that comes from.

Well, he knows, but he refuses to acknowledge it, anyway.

Also, my art for anyone who has not seen it yet! 

Chapter Text

When Billy was born, his soulmark was… frowned upon by his parents. The words were clear, and along with them, the dreadful meaning of it.

[Fate is cruel beyond comprehension]

Carved into the skin. Below the nape. In the colour of blood.

Was it a promise of a soulmate that would accompany him for the rest of his life? Or just a promise of tragedies after tragedies since birth? Of the kind of life that would entertain no one but Fate, himself?

"At least he won't die young,"

The Batsons comforted themselves.

They might have known, since the moment of his birth, that their end would be near, and their end would be ugly. And that, they wouldn't live til the day their son met his soulmate. The soulmark of their son felt like a revelation to them, like a fact instilled into their mind instead of a random thought. Less of a sentimental look to the future, more of a whisper, that their Fate had been sealed, that was.

What a tragedy.

After their death, after being separated from Mary, and after everything he was put through since a young age, Billy grew hateful of his own soulmark.

One cannot blame him.

Every adult in his life romanticised the thought of meeting someone made for them, that they forgot to stop for a single moment and ask themselves, "Do soulmarks truly bring only happiness?".

A soulmate. Chosen by Fate. An endearing gift from Fate? A blessing, even? Just for you and you only?

What a ridiculous delusion.

Why did humanity trust Fate so blindly, knowing Fate had not always been kind to all? He could be outright cruel and indifferent, and among anything else, Fate had always had a twisted sense of humour.

All Fate had ever given the young orphan was misery. Why would he ever expect anything else coming from Fate? Maybe his soulmate was just tragedy taking the form of a person who would strangle him to death in the end.

Sure, many people found love with their soulmark. But many cried and died for it, as well. After waiting for it. Begging for it. Praying for it. With our knees buried in soil, our heads to the ground, and our fingers laced together.

As Solomon once told him,

The High and Mighty Aphrodite and her son, Eros, promise humankind love. Not peace, not happiness, not glory.

Sure. Something, something about an arrow to the heart meant the moment you started loving someone, your heart was already marked for death. For a broken heart. Something something like that.

Billy could not care less.

One could not blame the teenager for dreading the thought of meeting his soulmate. Just a little bit. No matter how optimistic he had always tried to be.

But then again-

A soulmate. Chosen by Fate. For you and only you.

What a tempting thought.

Many, many moons ago,

Once, Billy had a fleeting dream. Of someone. He was on an island, with grass as high as his knees. He was holding a young lamb in his arms, and it was sleeping peacefully.

Amidst the warm breezes and the pleasant scent of Spring flowers, Billy was looking at the back of someone. That someone was taller than him, bigger than him, and that person was wearing nothing but black. That person did not turn back to face Billy.

A little scary.

But his shoulder was broad. And trustworthy. And maybe, warm. Billy could not say for sure, but strangely enough, he felt… safe, in that dream, in that moment in time.

After a little while, when the colour of the sky was changing, when Helios was about to rest, when the young lamb in his arms was waking up, that person finally noticed Billy.

And just when that person was about to turn his head around, Billy woke up. In his dusty room, in a rundown building in Fawcett, on his old mattress that he found in the streets.

But that was a long time ago. Too long. Before anything grandeur had ever happened in his life. Before Shazam. Before Captain Marvel. Before anything meaningful, that is.

That dream, for some reason unknown to the young Champion, has come back to him.

When Billy wakes up this time, still in his dusty room, in his rundown building, on his old mattress that he found in the streets.

But something feels different this time.

"Hm…" Billy tries to wake up, but a sharp pain suddenly makes itself known on his wrist, and along with it, his whole body. What a pain in the ass. Billy falls back to the mattress, which… wait, this isn't his black-mold-infested mattress? Since when did he change it? Did he ever change it at all? He usually just dries it in the sun and prays to Helios and Apollo.

The mind of the young Champion is as wounded as the body, it seems.

"Are you awake?"

Someone asks him. Who? That's not… either Freddy or Mary… but only those two know of this place… Then who…? But strangely enough, that voice does not alarm Billy.

"You are looking quite particularly stupid. Have you injured your head in battle yesterday?"

No, definitely not Freddy or Mary, they would not speak with such… obnoxity… Who is this guy? An old man? Billy wants to open his eyes, but his two eyelids feel like they are glued together.

"Then, there's no rush. Rest more." Despite initial coldness, the voice softens at the end. It feels like the owner cannot help it.

And then,

Billy can feel a gentle hand being placed on his forehead. Ever so tender, yet full of scars and calluses. And so cold. So pleasantly cold.

That's when Billy realises he's burning up.

His whole body is on fire, and that's an understatement. He feels like he is being put inside the Brazing Bull, but the heat is just enough to cook him inside out, but not enough to char his skin.

And the cold hand that is gently stroking his forehead feels like the only straw for him to grab amidst a raging flood that is about to sweep him away.

When you have been an orphan for as long as Billy has been, thrown into the world alone, foolish, and naïve, with the only way of surviving being holding on to rare sparks of hope, you would naturally learn to grip your saving straw so hard that you start bleeding. Nails digging into your own palms. Scarring your own skin. Shedding your own blood.

But it doesn't really matter, does it?

At least,

Having red under his nails is still better than black—the colour of the soil, dirt, the colour of dry blood, the colour of withered flowers, and the colour of rotting flesh. Anything is better than death. Anything is better than the bitter end. Anything. Anything at all.

Billy would be glad just to have anything at all, just for himself.

When you are so used to having nothing in your life, even a humble plea for some tenderness feels the sin of Greed.

So Billy leans into the hand that is treating him so softly. And in that moment, drowned in sickness and haziness, yet, he feels…safe. No. Not just safe, maybe? More. What is more than just safe? What more does Billy dare to desire than just "safe"?

Such a greedy young one.

Billy's eyelids lift ever so slightly, and he can see a figure looming over him, protecting him from the harsh sunlight outside the window.

Not just safe.

It's a fleeting sense of… Faith.

Faith in someone, that as long as that is here, Billy will be safe. Like how the tall grass felt caressing his skin and how soft the lamb's fur felt in his arms in that far but not forgotten dream.

Such blind faith in someone he had barely known.

One should call him foolish. One should call him naïve.

But none can do anything, as the young Champion, oh, the powerful and revered Champion of the ancient Gods, falls back into his slumber. Under those caring hands, of someone… someone whose name Billy knows.

Damian. His soulmate.

How ironic it is that he feels so safe being in the care of the hands of someone who was born buried so deep in blood and death.

His lungs are still burning. His insides are still churning. His limbs are weary. And his head is foggy.

But his heartbeats are slow. And calm.

At peace, perhaps. The heart knows beyond what the mind can manage, after all. It yearns, and we obey. Sing as many praises about humankind's intelligence as we desire, in front of the High and Mighty Aphrodite, we are just foolish monkeys.

Oh, our young Champion,

Oh, my sweet Billy,

May your dreams no longer be filled with nightmares. May your garden bloom every Spring. And may your heart be held with care.

And may Fate be kind to you. For once.

The next time Billy wakes up, it's already a little bit later than noon. His throat is as dry as the desert, but at least the heat burning him alive just moments before has subsided significantly.

Somehow. Billy thinks.

There's something wet and cold on his forehead, and Billy guesses that's why he no longer feels as hot as before.

Come to think of it, Billy tries to rearrange his thoughts, and he realises there are some… weird things happening around him right now.

Normally, whenever he is deeply hurt during a fight and he has to retreat to his place to rest without bothering the Bromfields, Jerry's the one taking care of him. But let's be real, there are only so few things a mouse can know about how to nurse a human back to health. But today, he feels… better than usual.

The mattress he's resting on is softer, warmer. The thin blanket covering him is silky. And there's a bottle and a cup of water right next to the bed, within his arm's reach. And the annoying noise of water dripping down, colliding with the floor, again and again, is not as loud as before. There's no weird, dreadful noise anymore, actually; instead, there's a song being played right now in the room. Soft and low, just enough to soothe a sleeping teenager without waking him up.

It's… nice. The song's choice, that is…

Wait-

Billy frantically sits straight up, terrified of what is happening, or WHO, to be exact.

"You have woken up." A calm voice greets him.

"Squeak!" That voice is followed by an enthusiastic squeaking noise that Billy's familiar with.

"What- What happened? I- How long… have I- have I slept?" Billy tries to stand up, to go and find the source of that voice, and to do something. Do what, exactly? Billy doesn't know; he just doesn't want to lie down like a lazy turtle while he's having a guest over. Well, it's not like the guest is invited, but still-

"You've not fully recovered, yet," The voice comes to him instead. Swiftly. Billy, on the other hand, is still struggling to stand up, with both his hands on the floor and his legs refusing to straighten themselves enough to function. "Go back to bed." The voice commands him, and Billy can feel a pair of strong arms lift him slightly from the ground and put him right back to bed. That's when Billy can finally see Damian in his vision.

The other boy is still wearing his domino mask, but he has changed his dominantly red Robin suit into something more comfortable—A bomber jacket with a white T-shirt inside and a well-fitting pair of pants that Billy's pretty sure is hella expensive. He has made himself comfortable, it seems.

Damian notices Billy's gaze and answers, "What is it? You cannot possibly expect me to still wear my Robin suit after having those Siren's disgusting hands dirtying it."

"… True…" Billy mutters. Damian is right. Damian probably saw those Sirens as someone hot… probably him as Captain Marvel. Billy feels embarrassed just thinking about it, but Billy just saw a bunch of slimy fish people with fishy hands grabbing Damian, trying to drag him into a fishy body of water. Also, the water in the in-between dimension is very disgusting, for it harbours all sorts of fishy creatures inside. Just fishy in general.

"Lie down." Damian orders again, a little bit softer this time. "Are you hungry yet?" Damian asks. But before Billy can answer, he feels two of Damian's fingers touching the side of his neck. The younger teenager trembles a bit out of shock, but soon realises Damian just wants to check his temperature and heartbeat. "Hmm, not terrible. You looked like a corpse yesterday."

Probably because Billy almost became one for real.

"Did you… um… help me?"

"…Jerry the II was very worried." Damian simply answers. Hearing his name being called, Jerry the II peeks out from the other boy's inner jacket to crawl towards Billy, excitedly squeaking along the way. Billy lets out a snort as Jerry reaches his face, and the magic mouse looks like it has cried a lot.

"Aww, you must've been worried sick… Sorry, Jerry…" Billy carefully strokes the magic mouse's little head and comforts him. From the corner of Billy's eyes, he can see the corner of Damian's lip lifting a little bit before the older teenager's facial expression falls back to its default.

"This room is a terrible environment to raise a mouse." Damian suddenly adds.

Billy blinks in confusion.

"I have made some changes I deem as necessary for Jerry the II to have a prosperous life from now on," Damian nods.

"What-? What changes?" Billy wants to get up again, but Damian's hand is still firmly on his chest, keeping him down.

"No need to be grateful. I only did it for Jerry the II." Damian casually says and hands Jerry, who's standing on Billy's head, a small piece of cheese. "He was the true hero for bringing us back from the in-between when you were unconscious."

Jerry squeaks happily as he is handed the piece of cheese that is 1/3 his size.

Billy looks around the room. Now with his vision cleared and his mind less foggy, he realises Damian has indeed made some changes to the room. The first thing that Billy notices—because it is VERY noticeable—is the enormous mouse house, no, mouse manor, in the best corner of the room with plenty of sunlight—A perfect place for a mouse to sun bathe was probably what Damian was thinking. It takes up almost ¼ of the room, with a big wheel in the middle and miniature furniture inside. Heck, there's even a 'magic room' with a small crystal ball inside. There are also 10 packages of grade A mice food and TWO WHOLE WHEELS OF CHEESE, all right next to the mouse manor. All of those take up half of Billy's room! Billy's already small room!

"Hey!" Billy groans. "How- Where did you buy all of this?"

"This morning. I have my ways." Damian folds his arms, looking particularly proud. "Considering mice also need to eat some fruits, fresh cherries and grapes straight from France will also be delivered tonight for him. And considering you would need to keep them fresh for him, I placed an order for a fridge and-"

"You cannot just do things without asking for my permission!" Billy furiously says. "Jerry is FINE! I give him nice stuff to eat all the time!"

"What, like fake chips and stale bread?" Damian huffs, "You're practically committing child abuse, Billy. That's the lowest kind of crime. I respect murderers more than child abusers."

Billy is almost so mad he forgets he's sick, "CHILD ABUSER? How can you- cough cough cough!" Billy recoils in pain as his lungs have decided to be pricks. The coughing is almost so intense that he can puke out his own organs, but fortunately, there's a hand patting his back, soothing his pain. When Billy calms down, finally, there's a warm cup of water already in front of him, urging him to drink it. So Billy does. His throat has been burning for a while from dehydration, anyway. After drinking the whole cup, Billy is gently placed back down on the mattress again. And Damian's bare fingers are checking his body's temperature and heartbeat, again, on his neck, right above his arteries. It feels rather itchy, but not particularly unpleasant.

"I wonder why…" Billy slowly lifts his eyelids again, and he can see Damian's knitted eyebrows and worried face, "… someone so powerful can also be so fragile like this."

"Me?"

Billy, after having completely calmed down, pouts. Being called powerful was the norm for him, but no one has ever called him fragile like this. Weak? Sure, he's a skinny scrawny orphan from Fawcett, and he has had his fair share of getting picked on by bigger kids. But fragile? Like, 'easy to break' fragile? What kind of word is that?

But with Damian's face being so closed and Billy having nowhere else to look, he can see beyond what his young mind can perceive; he can see Damian's lips shiver, just a little bit. And according to Solomon, that means the other boy hesitates, right? That means the other boy is thinking of something that he wants to hide, right?

And suddenly, Billy starts to wonder what Damian thinks about him. Not him, as Captain Marvel. But him, as Billy Batson.

"Yes, you." Damian finally answers, after a short exhale. Damian continues, "You are so full of weaknesses and foolishness, yet you can also be surprisingly reliable on the battlefield. Such contradictions are…" But after that, Damian says nothing more about it. "Rest more, I have other things to attend to."

"What- wait… You cannot just-" Billy protests. Billy cannot understand the reason yet, but he suddenly wants to hear what Damian has to say about him so badly. What does Damian think about him? Does Damian think he's strong enough? Does Damian think he's a little bit of a loser? Does Damian accept him as his… friend? There are just so many things Billy suddenly wants to know so bad, the want is overriding his mind.

But-

Jerry squeaks quietly, which means he is mad.

And all of a sudden, Billy is pushed back down on the bed by force, or by a very heavy magical wheel cheese on his chest, to be exact.

Jerry crawls out from under Billy, his big pea eyes furious, telling Billy he needs to stay in bed!

Ah, bed arrest order… coming from Jerry the II himself…

Billy sighs, after some mumbled protests, "Fine… I will rest…"

Damian snorts, witnessing it all, "Wonderful job, Jerry the II. Watch him for me while I go fix the ceiling, would you mind?"

"Fixing the ceiling?" Billy still has to express his opinion. Hey, it's his room, okay? 

"Of course?" Damian looks at Billy like he's spitting some nonsensical things, like birds can have horns. "For Jerry to grow up healthily, I have chosen to prioritise improving his living conditions. Fixing the ceiling to prevent water leaks and black mould is, naturally, of the essence."

"You? You fix it?" Billy cannot believe it. THE Robin? The son of Batman? And the grandson of the Demon head Ra's Al Ghul, who was such a pain in the ass for Billy to deal with a while ago, magic-problem-wise? Can he fix things? Billy thought he just had 50 servants to order to fix things for him at all times!

"I know what you're thinking," Damian reads Billy like a book, "I'll have you know that being capable of basic life skills is essential to anyone, yet here you are, unable to fix your own living place and raise a child properly."

"Hey!" Billy is a victim here. But he then looks around, more carefully this time, and he finally notices that his room, except for the enormous Mice mansion for Jerry, has been fixed here and there, but only subtly, almost unnoticeably. Is it out of a sense of hidden respect for Billy, maybe? The younger teenager cannot know. The only thing he knows is that the broken window from last night has been fixed, like now; his folding table with one broken leg is now standing up perfectly; his old and one-use-away-from-explosion water boiler has been replaced with a new one, same model, same colour; and his most treasured stuff, his comics and newspapers, are-

"In that chest over there," Damian points to a chest, neatly placed in the corner, away from the window to avoid the harsh sunlight and possible rain, maybe? "The chest is waterproof. It also has anti-mould and anti-radiation functions, so your most treasured items will survive a nuclear war. Even if you don't." Damian blatantly says, with a little teasing beneath.

"… Ah…I… I see… I- um… thank you, Robin." Billy cannot find words to reply to Damian, either to the teasing or just any comments on how ridiculously sturdy a chest used for storing comics and old newspapers is. "You are… nicer… than I thought, I guess, just you know." Billy quietly mumbles, but he's sure Damian can hear him. The boy is now a little red, on the face, on the ears, heck, his whole body is red.

Damian turns away from him—expression is still unreadable—as he replies, "As I said before, I am only doing this for Jerry the II."

And despite such a mean statement, Billy can feel the genuine care being put behind it all. Sure, Damian has said that he just wants to do this for Jerry, but then again, Jerry doesn't care much about Billy's old comics and newspapers. Of what? One asks? Comics that he used to read when he was just alone, still Billy Batson with no sister, no allies, not even a hero yet. And newspapers—the first few—about him as Captain Marvel, as someone new and meaningful, as a hero. Something like that is too heavy for a mouse to understand, isn't it? If Damian had truly not cared, he would've just used them to make bedding for Jerry.

Let's just say, there's just a constant universal truth about teenagers, and that is they do care. They do care a lot. They are just easily and irrationally embarrassed. They just need some kind of excuse to hide behind to express it. And in this case, Damian has used poor Jerry II to simply hide how 'pathetic' it is for him to care about a random kid on the streets. It's either Jerry or the fact that Billy has saved Damian's life twice by now, and the second excuse is just a tad bit too serious and heavy for them both.

At least Jerry the II is happy with his cheese and new house.

Billy is now too embarrassed to speak, so he just rests on the bed. He doesn't even know why he's being embarrassed right now; he just is. Somewhere in his mind, the Gods are finally 'online' again, and of course, they just rumble about how teenage love is both endearing and embarrassing, and Billy has to 'server mute' them completely. Nope, not in the mood for unwanted wisdom.

So he does the only thing he can, of course. And that is watching Damian fixing his ceiling. With Jerry sleeping on his chest.

Damian works very efficiently. Billy knows being hyper-competent comes with the job description of being a Robin, but he's just a little bit jealous of Damian. He is smart, naturally. He's genetically engineered to reach the peak of human physique, one way or another, when he grows up. He can fight very well. He seems very reliable, which is such a fraud because why do heroes of their age trust Damian more than Captain Marvel, anyway? Billy guesses it's because Damian really is reliable; he has a vibe to him that Billy thinks is very… what's the word? Man of the house kind of vibe? That he can fix anything and keep you safe, that is. No wonder many girls like him. But Billy can see their point. How can he have abs at 16, anyway? Billy cannot for the love of God even gain a pound! He looks like a walking stick, according to Mary. Tch. Damian, on the other hand, has such broad shoulders and strong arms that feel like steel… and- wait, not, let's not think about that anymore! No no! Billy Batson! Stop thinking about Damian's weird preferences to picking him up and carrying him bridal style everywhere! Even if he did say that it was more efficient, it's still a little too intimate, isn't it? Or is Billy overthinking things? Wait, wait! He's not being a clingy girlfriend, is he? Wait no! Let's rewind a bit! What girlfriend, anyway? They have only had like two dates! WAIT! NOT DATES! NOT DATES! ABORT! Stop thinking! Damn it! BILLY BATSON! STOP THINKING ARGHHH!!

Let's just say, Billy hates silence. And Damian's being too silent. Billy doesn't know if it's possible, but he can manage to not let out any sound whatsoever, hammering nails into the walls. Is it a Robin skill? Like a Ninja skill of sorts? Isn't it too unfair? That's such a cool technique! Heck… Robins are just so cool! And this one Robin, is particularly cooler than the other, Billy thinks. This Robin has swords. And this Robin loves animals. Billy likes people who love animals. That cannot be faked, and that means they are gentle at heart. And honestly, a gentle nocturnal vigilante just sounds SO COOL! URGHH! Isn't Robin too cool? That's so unfair for anyone else! Wait, but… but this Robin likes Billy… This one Robin technically is his- WAIT, we're back to square one! Stop thinking!! STOP THINKING, BILLY! HE'S NOT THAT COOL! TECHNICALLY, you're cooler, Billy! You're literally the Champion of Gods! But still, soft-hearted nocturnal ninja vigilante tho- ARGH!!!

Let's just say, once again, to emphasise,

Billy hates silence.

So after a long, or short, while, probably 5 minutes, top, the teenager wants to talk a little.

"Are you liking anyone, Robin?" Argh! Billy wants to bite his tongue the moment the words come out of his mouth. Why would he ask that? Wait, not that- not that he doesn't know yet, but-

The question successfully draws the attention of the hard-working Robin, he turns back, and Billy can see the clock turning in his head, before Robin says, "I do."

… Okay, okay, calm down, Billy, calm down, calm down-

"He is my soulmate."

Yea, cool cool cool cool cool cool cool no big deal he's talking about Billy cool cool cool no big deal yea like it's nothing serious- It's not like, it's not like Billy knows who it is. Of course he does, that's him! Like, that's him-

"Captain Marvel?" Billy blurts out.

Damian freezes for a bit, and then he replies, "So you do know. Well, he is not the type to be able to keep secrets, after all." Damian has considered such a possibility before. If Billy is one of the servants, or at least, a close ally of his soulmate, then it's natural that Billy knew, considering the teenager almost died venturing into the sewage system of Gotham to rescue a complete stranger just because of Captain Marvel.

Ah.

Billy suddenly realizes, a new battlefield has been established right in front of his eyes, and on the battlefield, he has the sole advantage of being Captain Marvel, but not at the same time. A battle for what, exactly? Billy doesn't even know. He's just a stupid teenager. But any adult would be able to regconize what he is thinking right away. Quite easily.

"I- I think I think Captain Marvel's cool. He's like… um… very, very handsome-" Billy struggles to say, as he tries to squeeze Jerry the II like a stressball to cope with the utterly embarrassing thing he's trying to do. "You- um… do you like… do you find him handsome?"

He just wants to know what his soulmate thinks about him, but, like, anonymously.

"Naturally. He was made and blessed by the ancient Gods of Greece, after all." Damian nods. He turns back to what he was doing and continues. If Billy were sharp enough, he would've realized that a tiny sound of hammering can now be heard in the room, and that means Damian's not as well-composed as he appears to be.

Billy inhales, "… What do you- what do you like most about him?", and exhales.

"…" Damian's tiny hammering sound stops for a bit, and gradually gets louder, until he answers, "His boobs."

Butts, and now, boobs? Seriously? Billy shoots daggers at Damian's back because, obviously, he dares not to glare at Damian from the front.

"Aren't you being too vain?" Still, Billy looks at his own chest, which is being used as Jerry the II's bed right now, which means it's very, very flat. Like a plank. "Just boobs!?"

"Yes, and his butt, as well."

Billy looks down at his butt, and of course, what do you expect from a malnourished teenager? He's literally shaped like a stick! There's almost no meat on his bones! He fears even if he gets thrown into the sea, no sharks would want to eat him because they would just get a pile of bones in their stomach…

Okay, now Damian's just being a troll!

"What about his personality? Why do you keep talking about his body?! Huh?" Billy frustratedly says.

The hammering sound coming from Damian's hand has finally stopped. The vigilanter looks rather… not as self-assured as he always is.

"He's a paragon of heroes, what is there not to like?" Damian replies.

But Billy is not satisfied with his answer, "But like, what do you like most about him? Like… his urgh- his bravery? His willfulness? Or anything?"

"He is powerful, there's no doubt about it." Damian replies, but his brows are slightly frowning, and Billy can sense hesitation coming from him, "However, he can be childish and naive. Unable to take care of himself out of battle, and maybe, in battle, as well, for he keeps throwing himself into danger out of goodwill without ever considering planning a way out. Selflessness at the expense of himself. How foolish. He makes me want to protect him in that regard. I find him adorable and- he makes me wonder how someone can be so powerful, yet so fragile-"

And then, once again, Damian stops talking mid-sentence, leaving Billy hanging, but then again, maybe it's for the best for now, for the younger teenager is now trying to bury himself in bed, being too shy to function properly.

Ah, teenagers.

Jerry the II squeaks uncomfortably, sensing that the atmosphere is shifting in a new direction.

"I- I see…" Billy mumbles. "He's very- very lucky then… since you, um- you like him that much."

"It's natural, he is my soulmate." Damian regains his composure, "We are bound by Fate."

But then again, the young youth has not considered the possibility of tragedy coming from his words—the simple phrase of "We are bound by Fate".

Billy asks him, "If you two weren't bound by Fate, would you have liked him the same?"

Damian's working hands completely halt.

Time slows down a little bit, for them, and just for them, maybe.

Bound is certainly a strong word to use. Is it really a blessing when you're 'bound'? By Fate, nonetheless? Both boys have had their fair share of misery dealt by Fate, after all.

One was meant to die a long time ago. And one is meant to suffer since the day he was born, til the day he would crumble into dust.

The hammering sound is replaced with the quiet noise of Damian's index finger tapping against the wall, as he holds up a nail. It's almost inaudible, but in the dead silence of the room, it sounds almost deafening to himself. Thud, thud, thud. Steadily. And gradually faster.

Soulmates. Many adore the concept of it. Deeming it as solid proof that God exists. But many also curse it, calling soulmarks the mark of misery. Any name goes.

When Damian was born with a soulmark on his skin, Talia breathed out in relief that her son was fortunate enough to live until he could meet his soulmate. Many of his 'brothers' did not get the same fortune. A child without any soulmark, more often than not, was destined for a short life that would never reach adulthood. But that same logic did not apply to Damian's mother. She did not bear any soulmark when she was born, yet her father, his grandfather, did not throw her away; he embraced her still and prayed for the world to be kind to them both.

The prayer got answered, not by God, but by Ra's Al Ghul himself. From then on, the Al Ghuls survived and thrived beyond what was allowed by Fate.

To be chosen for, or to choose for yourself.

Is Damian being a hypocrite, when he once cursed the concept that made his mother so miserable, only to turn around and follow out like a loyal dog because he craves a chance of unending love so desperately?

Maybe.

"Robin?"

But then again, humanity is so full of contradictions, it's a miracle we can last this far. Torn by our heart and mind. Strangled by our own beliefs. Skinned bare by our own desire to be loved. And pierced by our own cruelty against ourselves.

"… Call me Damian."

"… Damian?"

"Yes."

"Are you alright?"

"… I am fine."

"… Are you sure?"

"…"

Ah, such foolish teenagers, indeed.

"About your question."

"Hm?"

"I am not sure."

Chapter Text

Such a simple sentence.

"I am not sure,"

And all of Damian's doubts and fears start to pour out of his own mouth against his own will, "But I am willing to wait." Am, or was?

"For what?" Billy asks. And from the back of his mind, Solomon tells him, that curiosity is a dangerous thing.

Damian finally halts all of his actions, and he turns to Billy, his forest green eyes flutter, just a little bit, he answers, "For the reason why Fate has connected us."

Fate. Destiny. The Morais. The three sisters. Different names. Same thing.

We humans try desperately to rationalize our own pain and suffering that we call 'misery' by another name, 'Fate'. We decide, for our own sanity and insanity all the same, that Fate is unchangeable, unfathomable, and inevitable. So that we feel less pain, so that we can pretend like our anguish has meaning. Like life itself isn't cruel and indifferent to us. Like, we are not better than ants and grass.

But to Billy, it's a little different, isn't it?

"Fate isn't absolute, do you know that?" Billy tells Damian.

"…"

"It is rather surprising to me that you would obey Fate to a tee like that. About your love life, considering-"

"Considering what?"

"-considering, since, you know, you being my- I mean, my city's hero's soulmate was kind of against Fate."

How dare an orphan boy declare such blasphemous things?

"What are you saying?"

Damian slowly turns towards Billy, his eyes are grim, and his voice is hoarse and low. Threatening. And scary. Time slows down. Frozen, even. With how cold Damian is being.

And it snaps Billy right back to reality, to the one fact that he forgets about himself, sometimes,

He is not meant to interfere with the mortal realm with the knowledge bestowed upon him as the next Wizard and the High Priest of the Gods.

"Ah, Oh right, I- I wasn't meant to tell you that."

"Elaborate. Now." Damian doesn't let that slide that easily: "What more do you know about me?"

Billy wants to pout. He wants to tell Damian that he is messing with someone who's very important here! That he cannot just command Billy whenever he likes! Kings, Queens, Rulers, Monsters, and even Lesser Gods bow before Billy, okay?

"I don't owe you an explanation." The younger teenager stubbornly says, turning away, with his cheeks puffed out. But he still feels himself getting shivers when Damian starts walking towards him, "I'll have you know that I am VERY- OUCH! Ouch ouch!"

And the high and mighty Billy, the mortal shell of multiple mystical entities and titles, is being pinched by the cheek by a mortal boy.

"Talk!" Damian threatens. It would've looked actually threatening if he were doing some actual scary stuff to Billy and not just pinching his cheeks.

"Wha- Ouch ouch OUCH! Let me GO!" Billy yelps and starts to push Damian away, but the older boy feels like a wall to him. A very sturdy flesh wall. Immovable.

"Not until you have told me the necessary information. What do you know about soul bonds? And why is it that you deem them to be not absolute?" Damian pulls Billy's cheek a bit, and the boy cries out in pain pathetically. Damian doesn't know why, but Billy has a rather low pain tolerance for an insignificant kind of pain like this, but he pukes out blood and pulls veins out of his wrists without even blinking. "Don't even consider running away from me."

"FINE! I'll talk! FINE!" Billy caves.

"Then talk. What do you know about Captain Marvel and me?" And Damian lets go instantly, with a little smirk on his lips.

"Prick," Billy glares at him and mumbles, annoyed, pouty. Then he inhales, preparing himself for impact, then exhales, and says, "You already know that you were not meant to um… have a long life, right?"

"… Doctor Fate has made that known, and clear to me before." Billy can barely see ripples forming inside the other boy's eyes, as what he has said barely has any emotional impact on his soulmate. Billy doesn't understand how Damian can be so calm about it. Billy has basically just said Damian should've been dead. "Yet. I survived, still. With my soul mark still intact. Explain that to me, High Priest of the Gods."

"…" Billy feels like there are pins and needles on his scalp when Damian calls him that, "The Captain, he's meant to outlive you. And even if you two are not meant to be together in this lifetime, you will… eventually, find each other in another lifetime… your other lifetime, that is. The soul mark on your chest, it is something called a 'knot of Fate', like Sch- Schodinga's cat, is that the word? If you were to live, then you would meet your soulmate, but if you failed to do so, then you would still meet him in another lifetime. Does that, does that make sense?"

Damian has to pause to think.

There is a belief about the concept of 'soulmates' that many think is true. And that belief deems that soulmates are two halves of the same creation, that they will find each other, time and time again, across the endless cycle of reincarnations, across the Age of Stars and Moons, across the fall of the Sun and the Universe. Damian has thought about it, has considered it, and he has had some revelation about it. About being the soulmate of a creature that is meant to exist above and beyond a normal man's concept of Birth, Life, Death, and the Afterlife.

Billy gets pulled by the arms towards Damian, towards his own soulmate. His own soul mark burns, it feels tingling on his nape, "Does that mean even if I die, my soul is still bound to go back to him in another life? My next life? Other versions of me?"

"… Yes." Billy gulps, "Captain Marvel is blessed by the Gods, Damian. His soul is no longer inside the cycle of reincarnation for mortals. Until another Grand Age of Magic begins, which is after the End Beyond Death, where everything ceases to exist, even God, he is bound to his duty first. And-"

"And not me." The implications are clear. And the revelation is heavy.

Captain Marvel does not belong to Damian. Neither does Billy. He belongs to his duty, first and foremost. And he will outlive his soulmate. Soulmates. Damian with different names, different faces, and different stories to tell altogether. But then again, are they still Damian?

The cruelty of Fate knows no bounds. It is, truly, cruel beyond comprehension.

Billy quietly asks Damian. "Are you upset? About it?"

"… Is this the first time that he has met me?" Damian answers with another question. Billy wonders what is happening inside the older teenager's brain; he has expressed no disdain nor hatred for the concept of it. Of being bound to someone beyond, and above. "I am the first one, am I not? The only one whose words got carved into his skin?"

"… Yes," Billy answers, truthfully.

"Ha," Then Damian snorts, in relief.

"Why are you laughing? What are you thinking about?"

"Many things," Damian smirks, and after a short consideration of whether to tell Billy or not, he ultimately decides that it wouldn't be that much of a deal to share a little bit, "One of them is that I do not intend to share my beloved with anyone else."

Billy is bewildered, "What?"

"I was brought back to life against Fate, yes?" Damian casually answers, "His graciousness, or incompetence, has allowed me to live until I could meet my beloved. Then that certainly means what I have done, and will do beyond that point on is for me to decide, not him. And I have decided that my beloved should mentally prepare to kill me himself before ever thinking that he can outlive me and be with any other home-wrecking harlots."

"What- Are you-" Billy is genuinely, genuinely surprised by Damian's declaration, "Are you implying that you do not plan to die?"

"Naturally," Damian slightly winces his eyes, he looks at Billy like he is an idiot that doesn't understand 2+2, "He bears my soul mark. I am the one who has cursed him with it. Why would I let myself die so he can move on and be with lesser versions of myself who're lucky to savour the fruits of my labour?"

"What?" What kind of- What kind of confidence, borderline on insanity, is this?

"Though… there may be a reason for me to die, eventually, Hmm, that is a plausible possibility. If the situation calls for it, then I shall take my beloved down with me so that we shall get reincarnated together, as well."

"WHAT?"

Lightnings, hundreds, and thousands of them, start striking down from the sky, in broad daylight. The sound of thunder is roaring across the nine layers of cloud.

Zeus is laughing. The Gods are laughing. They have been greatly entertained. In ancient times, Damian may have even received gifts, and goats, and wives for it.

So, they whisper to their young Champion that they have now understood the reason why this mortal boy has been chosen to be bonded with their Champion for the rest of time. Such a splendid work, one may say, by the Morais, by the high and Mighty Aphrodite and her son, by Fate, himself.

A tragic play has been turned into a comedic and romantic one, against anyone's will but Damian's own.

"And how are you planning on doing THAT?" Billy is, unfortunately, still not done with feeling absolutely flabbergasted by Damian's confidence, yet.

"My grandfather is over 2000 years old, do you think my family lacks the means and knowledge for me to pursue eternity with my beloved?"

"… That is- That is not impossible- but- But why?" And that is how Billy slowly learns that his soulmate may be a little wrong in the head. "You don't know who he is. And- and- and-I think he doesn't even like you THAT much."

"Hmm?" Damian raises one of his eyebrows.

"I SAID- OUCH! HEYY!" Billy yelps as Damian pulls his cheek again.

"I dare you to say that again."

"Stop that- ouCH OUCH! THIS IS WHY CAPTAIN MARVEL DOESN'T LIKE YOU!" Billy screams at Damian's face, trying to yank his hands off, but then again, Damian can do push-ups with his fingers alone. What can Billy do about it?

"You're obviously lying." The older teenager concludes.

Touché. The Gods all agree.

"Well! I mean- not THAT much, I guess! I mean- You're like, SO unlikable!" Billy starts to stutter, his face scrunches up in pain, red and sweaty, and his eyes are starting to get foggy, with tears forming at the corners of his eyes. Those big, vibrant blue eyes that resemble the sky glare at him with contempt—Such a weak attempt to convey insignificant defiance to Damian.

How… foolish.

Weak. And pathetic. And naive. And fragile.

And…

Annoyingly captivating.

Damian thinks he wants to kiss Billy's face.

Realizing what kind of thoughts have just crossed his mind, Damian instantly lets go of Billy's poor, poor face and stands up abruptly, widening the gap between Billy and him.

"Such- Such- BASELESS CLAIMS!" Damian barks back. He doesn't know why—yet—why his mind has gotten mushy, haywire, and unable to form coherent thoughts and sentences. Is it the heat in Fawcett City? Or is it the effect of black mold growing inside this apartment? Must be the black mold, there's no other explanation. No, Jerry shouldn't live in this building any longer; it can mess with his health. Yes, Damian concludes, he needs to tear down this building and build a new one. Yes, of course, such a sensible and logical solution to these problems. He's such a good person. "I will tear this building with haste!"

"WHAT?" Billy, in the middle of stroking his own cheeks to lessen the pain, chokes on his own spit before yelling, his eyes widen, and his brain is unable to comprehend what he has just heard.

"Naturally, I shall go make a phone call. This building shall be destroyed by sunset."

"NO! No STOP! Damian! Damian? DAMIAN!!!!!" The sick boy crawls out of his mattress and, with his best effort, wraps his arms around the older vigilante's waist to keep him from walking out the door to call a fucking destruction order on Billy's home. "Is it because I said Captain Marvel didn't like you? DAMIAN!"

"Irrelevant! Your opinions matter not to me! This is for Jerry!" Damian answers, still walking like Billy dangling off his waist has no mass whatsoever. Yes, Billy doesn't actually weigh anything to Damian, the teenager can literally bench press 350lbs, why would some barely-100lbs-pile-of-bones-and-skin mean anything to him?

"Jerry? Since when did Jerry even ask for this? What-? I don't-" Billy can NOT understand Damian sometimes. Is this the difference between a normal person and a genius? How did Damian jump from Captain Marvel to destroy Jerry's (and Billy's) home for him? How many somersaults did he even do from point A to point B? "FINE! I TAKE IT BACK! I- CAPTAIN MARVEL LIKES YOU!"

Damian freezes. Billy has a chance to convince him.

"I- I mean- It's… I- Captain Marvel doesn't exactly hate you- Okay? Calm down, Damian!" Billy coughs in between his words. Somehow, speaking such… embarrassing things is harder for him than uttering nonsensical spells that have been lost that can probably bring about the apocalypse to mankind. "I mean- you know what I mean!"

"Say that again." Damian turns his head around, his forest green eyes are burning holes into Billy's face. The 14-year-old suddenly gets so embarrassed that he wants to turn his eyes away as he mumbles.

"I mean- I mean, Captain Marvel likes you than… um… than you may think. I think."

Damian pauses a bit, "And how are you so sure?" he knows Billy is speaking the truth. Billy wants to curse Fate because why would Fate give him someone so annoying as a soulmate! If he's not careful, then Damian can know he's lying right away, like a hawk looking for a running rabbit in the grass.

"Of course I am sure-" Billy inhales, he needs to reorganize his brain, and his thoughts, but his face is still red, and his heart is beating faster, and faster instead of slowing down. "I- mean… I- because I-"

The words are on Billy's tongue. Those so, so simple words of 'I am your soulmate'.

It's simple, isn't it, Billy? Tell him. Tell him now.

That you are Damian's soulmate. That you two are bonded, from the dawn of existence, through the endless pages of Destiny, til another lifetime. That you would find him, or he would find you, again, and again, and again, and again. Til the last star of the universe dies.

But before such a grand confession of love.

The young boy sees a wall between him and his soulmate. A wall so thin, it can break with words alone, yet it feels so wide, and vast, and indestructible to Billy.

Because-

Would Damian be disappointed?

Captain Marvel is beautiful, isn't he? Big, and strong, with a heart of gold, and a body sculpted and blessed by Gods. He brings lightnings everywhere he goes, and along with it, laughter, and light, and hope, and joy.

But what can Billy bring? What can a lonely, stupid, and pathetic orphan from Fawcett bring?

Skinny and scrawny. Dirty and lowly.

He can bring nothing. Nothing at all.

"Because-"

"Because?" Damian frowns.

"…" Words are stuck in Billy's throat. Too many. Too few. Nothing to say. Nothing will come out. Silence consumes both boys.

Billy can only stare at Damian. Vibrant blue eyes that resemble the sky, looking at his soulmate's deep, forest-green eyes. People say that when you look at your soulmate, you'll know that it's them. Does Damian know? Does Damian realize that Billy shares their eye colour with Captain Marvel? The thought scares him. So he averts his eyes away from Damian's gaze.

He realizes he still hasn't let go of Damian.

His body is getting hot. Wherever his body touches the other boy. Must've been the sickness. So Billy lets go of Damian, his whole body stumbles back, and before he falls butt first to the ground, Damian's hands already catch him, gripping his arms to keep him up.

"You are still sick," Damian states, and with tenderness, he puts his hand on Billy's head, measuring the other boy's temperature with his palm. "You're burning up. Are you uncomfortable anywhere?"

"I- I- uh… My head is kind of… light. And it's hot… I'm sweating…"

"Hmm, maybe it's your attire. You need to change out of it." It may be true, Billy looks down at the red hoodie he's wearing.

"I thought we need to uh, wear thick clothes when we're having a fever," The orphan asks, with a genuine and frankly, a little sad question.

Damian frowns, but then again, he quickly realizes that it is because the kid is a homeless orphan, who has had no one to nurse him back to health properly before, "No, Billy, wearing thick clothes that can trap the heat in does nothing to lower your temperature."

"I… see…" Suddenly, he feels himself getting lifted off the ground. Damian's arms are still strong and gentle, as always. He is then carefully placed back down on his mattress.

Another terrifying realization dawns on Billy.

WAIT, no no no, there's no way, right? That is TOO intimate, like- um… that's not… is it weird? Will it be weird that- wait, not, they are just two boys, there's no reason for it to be weird, right? He and Freddy are fine about it ALL the time so- so- so- so-

"Take off your shirt, or do you need me to do it for you, as well?"

WOAH! Okay, Billy! Billy! Billy! Calm down, CALM DOWN!

"What is a shirt?"

Fuckkkkkkk

"…" Damian stares at Billy with a dead expression. Fine! It was NOT FUNNY! Jeez!

"Okay, I- I can do it myself…" Billy wants to bite his own tongue and DIE.

Solomon comforts him: To be wise is to be once foolish.

Translation: It's okay to be a little stupid, child. And by little, I mean very.

With shame burning his brain, Billy's ability to take off his clothes has been nerfed back down to preschooler levels, no, kindergarten level, even.

"Are you going to take your time until the End Beyond Death to take off a single shirt?" Damian impatiently starts to pull the hoodie off Billy, which, somehow, is incredibly difficult. "Do you want to get better or NOT? Let GO!"

"FINE!"

It takes Damian 3.5 seconds to kill a man once. And somehow, it also takes him almost 5 minutes to take a single torn and battered hoodie off of a random orphan from Fawcett.

"Tt,"

"Stop being annoyed! I am the one being stripped here!" Billy protests; somehow, he still has enough energy and sanity to bicker with Damian. "Prick…"

"Foolish. What is there to hide from me? Your body is no better than a stick fallen from a withering tree."

Billy really, really, really wants to tell Damian that he was the one who wanted to kiss Billy so bad he almost got himself killed because of a raging boner! All that just for a single kiss! That's the true loser behaviour there! Like, for a kiss? Yea right, but Billy's the 'foolish' one here.

Billy bets that if he takes off his shirt in his Marvel form, Damian would die of an exploding dick!

Horny asshole!

"Are you cursing me in your mind?"

"No…?"

"I can tell you're lying," Damian winces his eyes, and he stands up, "Wait for me, I'm going to get warm water to wash your body with."

"Wash my body? I don't- I don't smell that bad, do I?" Billy tries to smell his hands.

"You smell like sewage, only a tad bit better than Gotham's underground. Think of what Jerry is feeling right now. Mice have a significantly higher number of functional olfactory sensory neurons than humans."

"Ophatory- what?"

Finally, the little magic, who has been quiet and understanding up until now, makes himself known, "Squeak…"

"See what I am saying? You're torturing him." Damian vaguely points to the ball of fur near the mattress. Wait, when have these two gotten along so well, again? "Now wait."

And wait, Billy, did. Topless. In his own bed. Why does he feel a vague feeling of shame? He asks Solomon, but the wise old man just chuckles in his head and refuses to give him an answer. Zeus, on the other hand, is laughing in the back. Still, no one gives him any explanation.

When Damian comes back, he is holding a small bucket with warm water. It turns out Damian has visited a recent small mart to get a bunch of bottles of water, and then he drops the egg-like hand warmer into the bucket. And Voila! A small bucket of warm water!

"You bought a whole pack of water bottles? In this economy? Why didn't you just go fetch the water from the park near here?"

"Isn't all public water infested?"

"Damian, that's just Gotham's water. Fawcett's water was literally blessed by me- Marvel, Captain Marvel. You can exorcise demons with it. Wait, on a second thought, maybe not, you may get burnt."

"Did you just call me a demon?"

Billy looks at Damian from head to toes, "No…?" A little.

"… You're lying, again," Damian winces eyes, threateningly.

In Billy's defense, Damian has just told Billy that if he dies, then he will be taking Billy down with him. And Billy absolutely does not doubt that Damian will manage that somehow. One can never be too wary of the Bats. If Batman could punch Darkseid, then his son probably would be able to kill Billy, too. That is why Solomon told him to be cautious, isn't it?

"Sit straight up, I'm helping you clean your body." Damian sits on the mattress next to Billy. With a warm towel in hand, drenched in warm water.

"You're helping me?"

"Yes. Be grateful. Turn around."

Billy hesitates a bit. But then, he obeys the order without making a fuss. A long breath is held within his lungs. His logical mind says that there's nothing to worry about, yet his heart is still beating fast. There's nothing to worry about, he tells himself. That he has done what needed to be done.

He has hidden his soul mark away. Buried deeply under the kind of spells that cannot be broken unless he allows them to be undone. An act of preservation, maybe? A drive to escape from Fate. To protect himself against it. One cannot blame the boy. It has certainly helped him in this case.

"…" Damian says nothing. His eyes barely react. He looks like a robot just doing what he is meant to do. And Billy gets to exhale in relief. "Your body, it is less than ideal." The boy simply states, which is expected by Billy, really. Skinny and scrawny, remember?"

Billy trembles a bit when the warm towel touches his back. It feels soft, and wet, and weird. Billy instinctively tries to pull away, but one of Damian's hands already grips the boy's hand, keeping him in place.

"Stay still," Damian, once again, orders.

The towel moves from the boy's shoulders, and slowly, it moves down to his arms, to the wrist, and back to his upper arms, on both sides. The wet towel slowly moves down to his butterfly bones and the middle of his back, but not his nape. Billy trembles again. He tries not to move, but it feels itchy, and feels hot, and it feels weird on his skin. It feels like Billy's being licked by a giant tongue. But he has been licked by Cerberus before, drowned in the Three-headed Hell hound's spit, even.

This feels different.

Is it the steady breathing noise of Damian behind him? Is it the cold touch here and there between their skin, between Damian's cold fingers and Billy's back? Is it how Billy's own heart is beating too loudly? He feels dizzy as if he has been basking in the sunlight for too long.

Billy doesn't know. He doesn't know what it is that he is feeling.

But when the towel reaches his nape, Billy trembles like a leaf, unable to keep himself together. Itchy, and terrifying, and blood-boiling all the same. He struggles to keep himself still, but his soul mark is betraying him.

The Soul mark that is supposed to be there is burning him. It is calling out to him. It is begging him. It is trying to make itself known to Billy and to its creator.

Those cursed words, [Fate is cruel beyond comprehension].

And maybe Damian can feel it, too. A tug at his heart. Temptation. Foolishness. False hope. Whatever it is, it forces the question stuck at the end of Damian's throat to come out, "Do you have… a soul mark?"

And Billy freezes up.

Maybe Damian has sensed that there is something wrong. He stops. And those cold fingers pull Billy backwards by the arm, closer to him, back to his chest, and the older boy who is usually cold and a little ruthless whispers into Billy's ears, with patience and tenderness, "Are you alright?"

Time seems to slow down for them both. And just for them.

Billy feels like his heart is about to jump out of his own throat. His heart beats too fast and too hard that it hurts. Maybe a little too much. His own heartbeats. They are too loud. Too annoying. Too haunting. The color of red on his skin, hidden under layers and layers of spells and magic, still burns like lava. And the only thing, the only person that can ease the heat that is driving his mind and body insane is Damian. Billy thinks so.

His voice. And the coldness of his fingers. Touching his bare skin. His nape. His back. Anywhere. Anywhere is fine.

"Are you uncomfortable anywhere?" Damian is taken aback when the other boy suddenly leans closer to him, but he does not evade the surprise touches. And that is where he is a hypocrite, a traitor of his own words, isn't he? But he hasn't realized it. Not yet. Not at that moment.

Billy starts to feel that even breathing is hard. Rough. Haste. Difficult. And Damian, as well.

"It feels hot," the younger boy mumbles, barely audible, but Damian can hear his voice clearly. For Billy's pale and dry lips are so, so close to his face, and his ears. Muttering such weak noises, borderline on pitiful pleas. "Help me, Damian."

And all of a sudden, the songs of Sirens no longer seem like the most treacherous thing in the Realm of magic. And that, maybe, the boy in front of him right now, maybe his end, instead.

Like a foolish sailor, Damian asks, "Tell me, what do you want me to do?"

"Damian…My body's hot," Billy utters his name. His body is now fully inside Damian's arms. And the soul mark on Damian's chest starts to burn a little too much, like it is being iron-branded into his skin. But it doesn't make any sense to him. He doesn't know it yet, but their two soul marks are so, so close to each other, only a layer of fabric apart—just a few millimeters.

Damian feels like all of his blood is going elsewhere. Maybe letting Billy know his true name has been a mistake, after all.

But then, Damian feels like Billy is pulling his hand towards his torso, just below the heart and lungs. Billy places Damian's fingers there, supporting his chest, his whole ribcage. Damian takes in a sharp breath. The younger boy is so thin, Damian can feel the bones right under his fingers. In between. Like he is playing a harp. And he can feel Billy's heartbeats, under the tips of his fingers, steady, but faint. The source of life. The dreamer. The lover. The one true weakness of man. And Billy's letting Damian's hands—rough, cold, and ruthless, more often than not—so close to heart. Cupping his fragile and tired ribcage.

And the younger boy lets out a pleasant noise, almost a moan, but not quite there yet. Sweet, and inviting, and comfortable. Like a cat purring, "Cool…" Billy lets out a breath, full of relief.

Suddenly, Damian wants to know how else he can make Billy more comfortable, more… pleased. He wonders what kind of voice he would have then? When he- The teenager manages to control his mind from wandering further, and further from the truth. But even then, his mind feels like it is now drowned inside a thick fog, preventing him from thinking straight and acting right.

Damian still hasn't pushed Billy away.

"Better?" Damian says he doesn't notice his own voice going down a few notes, deep and hoarse, full of something, something Damian has dared not to name. "Have I asked something I should not have?"

Billy thinks about it for a bit, as best as his foggy mind could, anyway, "There's no soul mark on my body." Half the truth, half a lie. Damian's fingers caress his ribcage, it makes Billy tremble.

"Is that so? Then I shouldn't have, then," Damian, rarely ever, apologizes.

"It's not that much of a big deal," Billy reassures him, guilt gnawing at the boy instead. He would prefer Damian just be a prick like before. But then again, if Damian were truly a ruthless, thoughtless, heartless prick, then Billy wouldn't be having this much of a struggle trying to… stay away from him. That's the main goal. That's what Billy wants. Right? To separate his Billy Batson and Captain Marvel identities, to live two lives.

And such a goal naturally means Damian can only meet and be with one of them. At least, until Billy can manage to fuse the two identities together, that is.

However, like all teenagers there are, Billy is still foolish. And selfish. And impatient. And greedy. He wants to have the cake and eat it too. He wants Damian to stay in love with Captain Marvel, but he wants to know whether Damian would like him, as Billy, as well. Without the power, without the unending smile, and without the body that was sculpted by the Gods. He wants to know whether Damian likes him for who he is.

And if Damian does, then maybe Billy wants to tell Damian the same, as well. That he likes Damian too. As Billy Batson, the orphan from Fawcett, and not as Captain Marvel.

But then again, doubts and insecurities are still there, at the back of his mind like ghosts that will never leave. Telling him that maybe not right now, not when he's still skinny, scrawny, stupid, ugly, and pathetic.

"I can see why Captain Marvel likes you." The boy ends up saying. An indirect confession, it is. Teenagers are so full of contradictions, aren't they? So full of stupidity and disregard for their own life. They would burn down a nation, yet they fear the slightest thought of confessing their naive feelings for each other.

"…"

And suddenly, they are back to the start. A little different this time. Back to chest. Close to the point of feeling each other's heartbeats on their skin. And Damian's chin is almost on Billy's shoulder, trying to look at Billy's face, eyes, and lips from behind.

"Is that so?" But Damian is now softer than before, his voice is less commanding and more like a whisper between loved ones. "How would you know?" Is he really chasing an answer? Neither Damian nor Billy knows any longer.

"… Isn't it obvious enough?"

"I cannot see it on my own. Tell me."

",.."

"You haven't answered me," Damian frowns, like a persistent hound dog, he pursues, and pursues. That is what Damian is the best at, isn't it? Pursuing. Endlessly. Tirelessly. Until the prey has been caught within his mouth. His fangs deep in its flesh. "Tell me, what is it of me that you think is worthy of his love?"

Such a cunning way of using words. Damian is asking Billy—whether he is aware of it himself doesn't matter—what is it about him that Billy finds lovable. Two birds with one stone. Maybe there is not just one greedy teenager here.

"…"

Billy tries to look ahead, to evade Damian's domineering gaze on him, but suddenly, he feels a hand gripping his neck from behind, all 5 fingers digging into his skin, his veins, and his arteries. Pressure on the side of Billy's face, and he turns the younger teenager's whole head around for Billy to look at him. Billy can only gasp in surprise, being forced to look at Damian in the eyes like this. So close. Too close. Billy can even count Damian's eyelashes.

"Look at me, Billy." Damian orders. His fingers, which are still on Billy's torso and not his neck, are pressing harder into the other boy's ribcage, just enough to keep him down, preventing him from escaping, but not enough to hurt him. Just yet. Like the hands of a predator that hasn't stuck out its claw yet. Just yet. "Answer me."

And Billy does.

The Mightiest Mortal. The Champion of the Gods. The Protector of Magic. He shouldn't be easy to command like this. Such an insult to the Gods. Their Champion is obeying a mere mortal like a prey animal.

"Because he would let you do things… to him… that he wouldn't let anyone else do…"

Billy then quickly averts his eyes, not daring to look at Damian's eyes. He does not know what the other boy is thinking, or even what kind of expression he is having. But Billy just knows, somehow, that maybe, maybe he should not have said it. Because his heart is beating too loudly for him to hear anything, and his face is too hot, Billy thinks his own brain is frying itself from shame and embarrassment and an unknown feeling Billy's still unfamiliar with.

Oh, Hera, why hasn't Damian said anything? Billy feels like he wants to puke out his own heart and run away!

"…"

And after a short—but also devastatingly long—pause, Damian speaks again.

"Like what?"

What…?

Ah.

The youth.

Full of love, and lust, and stupidity, and there's no difference between all three of them. Nothing at all.

"Like- like… um… holding hands…" Billy reluctantly answers. Billy blinks his eye in confusion, his eyes darting between the ground and Damian, who's staying silent, with a dull and unreadable expression. The absence of conversation feels awkward, too awkward, and it forces Billy to continue. "And hugging…"

"Captain Marvel hugs his friends and family all the time." The older boy states.

"It's different!" Billy disagrees.

"How?" And Damian asks, again. Questions, after questions.

"Uh- different because…"

"Because?"

Billy feels frustrated at Damian, not at the fact that he keeps asking, but for the fact that Damian is still gripping onto his nape, forcing Billy to face him, not allowing Billy to have a little dignity and privacy here! Billy feels like- He feels like Damian is drilling holes into his brain like this.

"Because he would let you- let you touch some other places-"

For a split second, Damian's eyes move. From Billy's eyes, downward to his thighs, and up again.

"Like where?"

And it clicks for Billy what Damian's thinking about. Like a puzzle starting to take form. Like the light at the end of the tunnel. Somehow, Billy starts to get a hint of what Damian wants to hear. The boy bites his lips, and then, with the courage of a stupid, stupid teenager, he answers, "Like his thighs."

Damian's eyelids flutter.

Has Billy hit the jackpot? He thinks he has.

Like a lost man seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. And like a temptress seeing the hesitation of the sailor on the ship, looking down, gulping his own spit.

Billy drags Damian's hands down his torso. Down to his thighs.

And Damian lets him.

Four fingers on the outside. Thumb on the inner thigh. Just like how Damian used to touch him many moons ago, right? The only difference is that Damian's much, much bigger than him now—one head taller—broader shoulders, bigger hands, and the weight Damian's putting on him feels almost too much to endure.

"Like this," But the younger boy still dares to say. A weird feeling burns inside of him, and it has burned any other meaningless thoughts and doubts left in his naive and foolish mind. He wants to see Damian flustered and riled up because of him.

He can feel Damian's fingers squeezing him. Thumb digging into his flesh. Big enough to wrap around his slim thigh completely. Without the layer of thick jeans in between, it would've definitely left bruises and marks. Billy lets out a soft moan. And Damian eases his hand almost immediately, but he doesn't pull his hand away, still obediently remaining under Billy's own hand, on his thigh.

Billy's eyes dare not look at Damian's in the eyes, so they settle for the other boy's neck instead. He can see Damian's Adam's apple go up. And down. And he can feel like those forest green eyes are seeing something else that is not him. It makes him a little upset, but it also makes him curious. Billy wonders what else Damian has thought of, or where else Damian has lain awake at night thinking of touching. Is it his boobs? Or his butts? Does Robin like anything special? Billy knows some people like neck, or feet, or some other weird places. Whatever it is that Damian is seeing instead of him, Billy wants to know.

The conversation has derailed from the innocent topic of "like", and "love", and "soulmates", has it not?

In for a penny, in for a pound.

"Where else do you want to touch on Captain Marvel's body?" The interrogated has, somehow, become the interrogator.

"…"

In for a penny, in for a pound.

No one is more daring than a young soul with nothing to lose.

Damian's grip on Billy's leg tightens again. His nails are digging into the scrawny and skinny boy's inner thigh. It makes Billy wince in pain, but he cannot move an inch from Damian, with the older teenager's iron grip on his neck. His body is completely engulfed by Damian, inside his arms, under his control. Helpless and vulnerable.

Damian can break Billy's neck if he wants to. Cleanly. Swiftly.

And for the first time ever,

Billy feels genuine fear. Shivers running down his spine, from where Damian is touching him, down to his tailbone. Billy feels like he wants to cry.

Flight or fight?

His instinct is telling him to remain still, to open his big eyes and appear as pitiful as possible. And maybe, maybe Damian will take pity on him.

But strangely, and ironically, it is the one who is holding him in place that is whispering to him, cautiously, timidly, voice guilty like he is confessing his sins to the prey animal in his grasp, "Everything. Everywhere."

"I want to have him in any way he would allow me to," Damian quietly whispers.

Billy does not dare to breathe too hard.

"I want to see him bare in front of me,"

"I want to touch the deepest parts of him,"

"I want him to call my name, and my name alone, when I give him unadulterated euphoria."

In for a penny, in for a pound. Right?

"I want…"

Billy has not considered one thing, yet, whether Damian has any skeletons deep in his closet, just like how Billy fears Damian will find him disappointing. Or rather, the young teenager—barely old enough to be walking on the bridge leading into adulthood—has never considered what the concept of 'lust' is. Beyond it. Above it. Beneath it. In all ways possible.

After all, everything is about sex. But sex itself is not. Such a taboo word, isn't it? The boy has not even dared to say the word once in his life, but what about any other words?

Domination. Submission. Obsession. Possession. Destruction. Creation. Humiliation. Devotion.

And above all,

Love. And insanity. Both are the same.

"What do you want to do," to me, "Damian?"

"I-"

Like a lonely sailor looking down at the muddy water below.

"I want to taste him in my mouth," Blood and flesh and anything at all. Everything. A taste of the divine. A taste of blasphemy. An insult to the Gods. But a declaration of love.

But to whom is he declaring those sweet and ruthless words?

To his soul-bonded beloved, bright, joyful, and beautiful? Or to the skinny, scrawny, and small body inside his arms right now? Oh, so mortal and fragile that Damian can easily crush his bones, breaking his neck, and leaving marks on his skin?

To doubt is to know the answer. And Damian is certainly not a fool.

But his fangs cannot stop itching. And his tongue cannot stop craving for something warm, and wet, and sweet on it.

"Damian," The prey finally lifts his eyes to look at Damian. Vibrant blue eyes. Like the color of the sky. But in that split moment, they are drowned inside a thin layer of fog. Sticky. And hazy. And wet. And feeble. And tempting. "Then why are you looking at me like that…?"

"Like what?"

The young lamb says to the big, bad wolf, "Like you want to eat me."

Such a ridiculous ask.

Isn't it?

"…"

Eros whispers into the deepest layers of Damian's mind, "Oh, he, who is soul-bonded to our Champion, have you ever wondered how many empires have fallen because of me?" Of not glory and honour, but of Lust. Of desire. Of the dirty. Of the vulgar.

And above all, of the unearned confidence that man has grown to be able to control their lustful nature.

"Damian- Ah!" Billy yelps out of pain. All of a sudden, Damian's using too much on him, on his neck, on his thigh, almost pushing him face down to the mattress.

"It hurts, ah, ah- Damian, stop-" Billy tries to struggle. To get away. Almost crawling on his knees, on his elbows. Hands gripping Damian's, trying to yank his grip off his body. But any effort is futile. The sheer difference in size and power is simply too much, overwhelming, indisputable. "Damian- You're hurting me. Ah-"

"Stay still," Damian orders. And again, Billy's whole body goes limp. Forced to choose the only viable option of 'fright' instead of fight. Such a weird thing to think about, isn't it? The Champion of the Gods is at a mortal's mercy, bare and vulnerable like a lamb on a butcher's table, with dotted lines all over his body.

Damian's breathing fastens, roughens, like he is out of breath, like he is fighting. Billy's are no different. They start to breathe in sync. Chaotic. And messy. But in sync. In some twisted way.

They stay like that, for another 5 minutes, 10 minutes, for a while that Billy cannot tell how long except that it is devastatingly long. He feels like he is inside the Brazing bull, being burned alive, and even the hands that are supposed to be cold start to feel like brand irons on his skin. Hot and ruthless. Inescapable.

The color of the sky starts to shift.

And finally, Damian lets go.

Billy falls chest-first into the mattress; his body is aching all over. Especially his neck and his thighs. The pain forms into the shape of Damian's hands, burning hotter than his hidden soul mark. Overriding. Overwhelming.

The heat from the sickness has subsided. No. Replaced by the heat coming from either Damian's body or Billy's own, the younger boy doesn't know. But the heat is burning his brain, and his heart, and his lungs, all of his organs, even the ones he does not dare to think about. He doesn't think his body can get hotter than this.

Time starts to flow again, for both of them. Gradually, eventually. Sanity comes back, piece by piece. But certainly, not intact. Not perfect.

Well, has either of those teenagers' sanity ever been flawless and normal, anyway?

"You-" Billy can hear Damian's voice from behind him, calling him, yet no longer calming and patient. It is annoyed and angered, yet sticky and confused. "What are you, really?"

"…"

What can Billy even answer to that?

"Have you been sent to test me and my loyalty? Is that your goal? Is it a trial that the Gods have created for me?" Damian sounds like he's fuming, voice trembling from anger alone.

Seriously, what can Billy even answer to that?

Billy finally gathers enough strength to push himself up from the bed, and he turns around to yell at Damian.

"What are you trying to say? Are you saying that I am a hoe-"

"Harlot! You should be ashamed of yourself for trying to seduce me!"

"I HAVE NEVER DONE THAT!"

"YOU HAVE!"

The Gods whisper into Billy's ears: Child, you may have done a little bit of seducing.

Billy: Not you guys TOO?! Whose side are you on? Come on!

The conversation quickly derails into- how many times has it derailed into something completely unexpected, anyway? What was the question again, or the answer, or the topic? What is happening, anyway? Seriously, what is going on?

Billy only knows that his face is still burning up, and his mind is definitely borderline on the verge of exploding, and his heart, also.

Damian seems to be the same; his ears are dead red, and he has lost all of his usual obnoxious composure.

The older teenager turns around, "Tt, I am leaving. We shall never meet again. I shall never fall into your trap, ever again."

"Seriously, what is wrong with you? I did nothing!"

"Cease your lies, harlot!" Damian cannot help a little petty bickering. "Speak nothing about this meeting to anyone, or you shall taste my sword!"

"Oh yea? Oh yea- URgh, you- You- You- You PERVERT!" Billy screams at the top of his lungs. It has successfully startled Damian.

"ME? A PERVERT?"

"You Stupid obnoxious unlikable HORNY PERVERT!"

"And you- You are a foolish, pathetic, and-"

"You got hard with me, didn't you?"

"THAT WAS FOR MY BELOVED!"

"WAS IT REALLY?"

"I'M LEAVING!"

"FINE, LEAVE! YOU'RE NOT WELCOMED HERE ANYWAY!"

Well, teenagers. What do you expect from them?

Damian storms out of the room and, of course, slams the door so hard the hinge is busted, leaving it dangling, barely holding on to the frame. Great. Fucking prick! Now, Billy doesn't even have a door! URGHH! Fuck DAMIAN! FUCK HIM!

Solomon: Child, poor use of language.

Billy: URGH I DON'T CARE!

Jerry is currently in his new mansion, hiding like a child when their parents fight. Poor Jerry. But at least he has a new mansion.

Billy throws himself onto his mattress and screams.

Well, not exactly 'his'. The mattress is new. Completely new. And it smells good, too. Like Oud, like warm spice, and a little metallic. Like Damian.

URGH! STUPID DAMIAN!

Billy continues to scream into his mattress. Which Damian bought for him.

SERIOUSLY! Billy thinks he needs to go pay Aphrodite, or Eros, or the Fates a visit to ask whoever tied him and Damian together, anyway? What were they thinking? SERIOUSLY! Why is his soulmate not just a simple, cute, sweet, and bright girl who's like, next door or something? WHY? Why does it have to be Damian?!

He's like, wrong in the head! And weird! And horny!

Argh!!!!!!! ARGH!!!!!!!

…

Ha-

Okay, calm down, Billy.

Calm down.

Calm down.

He's gone now- So- It's alright, just- Just go to sleep-

"Billy."

Fuck.

"WHAT?"

Billy turns around and yells at Damian at the door, who's holding a bag of fruit.

"These are for Jerry."

"Leave them at the door!"

Damian really does put them at the door. The broken door. By him. But he is not leaving yet.

"Why are you not leaving yet?"

"… I- I have," The older teenager struggles a bit to say, which is rare for him, "Brought you some clothes to wear."

"…" Sometimes, Billy wishes Damian were really JUST an obnoxious and impulsive, and murderous prick. He really does. He really, really does. The younger teenager screams mentally in his own head, but his expression and his voice soften, "I don't want to owe you anything. How much are those?"

Damian steps into the room, revealing a paper bag he has been hiding behind his bag, "Don't be ridiculous, these cheap things can barely put a dent in what I own."

"… Rich prick." Billy rolls his eyes. But he sits up to see Damian better. Suddenly, he feels a little awkward, realizing he is still topless. So he tries to wrap his arms around his own skinny body, trying to hide it away a bit.

Damian, despite being so usually brutal and straightforward, places the paper down and turns his eyes away. "…There's no need to pay anything back. You already saved my life two times… I should be paying you…"

"… Are you trying to apologize?"

"…"

"That's a shitty attempt." Billy blatantly says as he takes a shirt out of Damian's fancy paper bags and puts it on. Billy does feel a little bit better after having something soft and light to cover himself with. "But okay, I accept it."

"Tt," Damian clicks his tongue, and then he sighs, "I just came here to… ask, about the well-being of my soul-bonded beloved."

"…" Billy realizes that he has been a little too difficult on Damian, for no reason at all. It's not like, well, Damian wants to harm him anyway. And Damian almost died last night after being dragged by Billy into the in-between. The young hero now feels a little guilty. "I can… tell you, something… You can turn around now."

And turn around, Damian does.

The air is MUCH awkward than before. They decide to just keep a safe distance between themselves…

"You should stop trying to… um… trying to dig information about magical entities of Fawcett," Billy coughs. "Especially Captain Marvel, and uh, me."

"Hm," Damian huffs.

Billy explains, "You know um, the fundamental core of ancient magic is changing the rules of the world, right? It's not as simple as modern magic, where those rules mostly apply only to the caster. Ancient magic spells, by Ancient magic entities, are rearranging, rewriting, and implementing those rules in reality itself. That is why, um, Captain Marvel rarely uses magic."

"And how is it relevant?"

"Holy Moly, be patient, can you? Let me explain!" Damian glares at Damian. "That means he has made a new rule within this universe that everyone, everything has to obey, that um, the rule is that, um, it is impossible to obtain information regarding the Captain and uh, other specific magical users of Fawcett City's true nature and identities, unless it is allowed verbally by the Captain himself."

"… So that is why." Damian sighs, recalling the words of his servants. "You, as well?"

"… Yes. It is like a, uh, security, um, procedure?" Billy nods. "If you want to track m- our true identity and stuff, every piece of information will get blurred out. Like, redacted, and stuff. Like how you curse in P*BG and the words turn into small flower-like thingy."

"They are called asterisks, and your ability to explain magic is terrible."

"I made it as simple as it can be for you! OKAY?"

"…" Damian nods, and somehow, Billy can feel that he is amused, "And my beloved, may I know whether he is currently alright?"

"… Yes," Billy puffs out his cheeks. Feeling a little pouty that Damian just wants to talk about the other version of himself. "He's beyond fine, EVEN! As strong as an OX!"

"You're lying,"

"… I hate you,"

"I am aware."

"But I guess… he is… recovering." Billy decides to just turn his face away when he talks to Damian. Holy Moly is it hard to talk to someone who can tell you're telling lies instantly like that! Without Solomon's aid, Billy is really just an open book.

"How long is it until I can meet him again?"

"… Around two weeks."

"… Is that so?"

"… Do you miss him that much?"

"Be the judge of that yourself."

"Are you familiar with the term 'simp'? Old man?"

Damian snaps his head at Billy, but at this point, Billy is fairly confident Damian is just bluffing his scariness, "You are making it very hard for me not to slay you."

"Pfft, like you can," Billy scoffs.

"I certainly can. Right now. Before you can recover to your best condition." Damian winces his eyes, hands on his sword, strapped on his waist.

"WAIT wait wAIT!! THAT'S A JOKE!" Billy frantically scoots backwards. "If you kill me, you'll regret it for the rest of your life!"

…

"Pfft," Damian lets out a quiet snort. "You should look at yourself in the mirror right now, you look pathetic."

"You- Seriously!? Your choice of humour is threatening to kill someone?!" Billy loudly complains, very, very aggressively complains.

"Yes." Damian deadpans.

Billy thinks that he needs to murder his soulmate. It is for his own good. He can meet this prick again in another 500 years or so! This version of his soulmate is broken beyond repair!

A little more bickering back and forth.

The awkwardness fades away. And the sun starts to dim, signaling the end of the day. Soon, the sky will turn dark, being cloaked by Mother Night and Hypnos shall come for all living beings.

Damian tells Billy, "It will be dark soon. I should head back to Gotham."

"… The road back to Gotham takes hours, doesn't it?"

"Yes, on my bike,"

"Why don't you stay the night here with me?"

"…"

Innocence is truly the greatest form of seduction there is, isn't it?

Damian hesitates. His heart speeds up. And his eyes flutter.

The son of the Dark Knight has to calm himself down before answering, "No, I cannot, Billy."

Billy, unable to understand the implications of his own words and the effect he has on Damian, tilts his head to the side, and asks, "Why?"

Great question, Billy.

Why?

The only person who does not know the answer to that question is our young Champion, and only he alone.

Damian answers it with silence. He hastily walks out of the door, and only leaves behind an abrupt goodbye, "Take good care of Jerry. I will check on him later. Don't you dare to slack off!"

Billy is completely dumbfounded by it.

What kind of goodbye was that, even?

Jerry the II is literally his kid? Since when has he agreed to share custody with Damian?

Since WHEN?

The question has completely missed the mark.

The young Champion doesn't even realize that it is not really a subtle promise of coming back to see him, which completely contradicts the older teenager's earlier declaration of wanting to have nothing more to do with Billy ever again.

It turns out, Damian may have a much, much weaker mind and heart than he believes.

Ah,

Aren't teenagers stupid?

But no one can deny that they are terribly entertaining to watch.