Chapter Text
The first thing Khoa registered was the sound of steady beeping. Then—too bright lights. Too clean air. Too comfortable sheets.
Medbay.
Shit.
He cracked open one eye. Clark was in the bed next to him, propped up against the pillows, already awake and blinking blearily at him.
And looming over both of them, arms crossed, the very picture of disappointment—
Batman.
Khoa groaned. "I regret pressing that button already."
"You should." Bruce’s voice was flat. "Because I’m about to kill you both myself."
Clark, still hoarse, tried, "Technically, I was the one who almost—"
"Shut up."
Silence.
Bruce exhaled, rubbing his temple like this was giving him a migraine. "You were both nearly dead by the time I got there. Your brilliant plan of ‘winging it’ resulted in severe internal injuries, multiple fractures, third-degree burns, and in Khoa’s case, a punctured lung. Which, might I remind you, did not stop him from throwing a grenade."
Khoa squinted at him. "Did it work?"
Bruce glared.
Clark, slightly more diplomatic, asked, "What exactly happened?"
Bruce folded his arms. "The creature was still rampaging when I arrived, but one of your hits—weak as they were—combined with Khoa’s grenade was enough to send it scurrying. That gave me time to finish it off and extract you two. You’re lucky you even made it to the Watchtower."
Khoa smirked, shifting a little in the bed. "You’re welcome."
"Shut up."
Clark, voice still a little rough, frowned. "And the ring? Was this always their goal?"
Bruce shook his head. "No. The ring had been operating independently for a long time. Luthor only got involved recently. He saw an opportunity—metahuman experimentation, capturing you—he collaborated with them to escalate things. If he hadn’t interfered, the ring might’ve continued undetected for years."
Khoa made a thoughtful noise. "So what you’re saying is—Luthor, once again, managed to fuck up everything?"
Bruce gave him a long, unreadable look. "Yes."
Khoa grinned.
There was a beat of silence before Clark, with something almost resembling amusement, asked, "And the missing metas?"
Bruce sighed. "Taken care of. Dinah is leading the charge now, along with the other League members. She’s… not pleased this went under our radar for so long."
Clark and Khoa exchanged glances.
Khoa snorted. "Wow. Almost feel bad for the punks that have to face an angry Black Canary."
"Almost," Clark added dryly.
Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. "I’m going to pretend you two are still concussed so I don’t have to process the fact that you’re joking about this."
Khoa smiled, far too pleased with himself. "Always good to have an excuse."
Bruce fixed him with a look that promised retribution. Then, with a tired sigh, turned toward the door. "Try not to cause any international incidents while recovering."
Clark smiled. "We’ll behave."
Bruce paused. Considered them both.
Then walked out, muttering, "I doubt that."
Six Weeks Later
Khoa had no idea why he was nervous.
He wasn’t. Obviously. He was Ghost-Maker. He didn’t do nervous.
And yet.
Yet he was standing outside Clark’s apartment for an extra two minutes longer than necessary, gripping the package in his hands like it mattered—like it meant something.
Ridiculous.
He knocked.
Clark opened the door a moment later, dressed in a simple sweater and jeans, expression soft with mild surprise. "Khoa."
"Superman." He tilted the painting toward him. "You need art."
Clark blinked, taking the package from his hands. "I—okay?"
Khoa stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, watching as Clark unwrapped it.
Then froze.
Clark stared at the painting. Then at Khoa. Then back at the painting.
"Is this- this is that painting isn't it? The 1.5 billion one?" He asked, clearly amused and rubbing his fingers against the burnt part of the frame.
"Well- you saved it. Seemed fitting. I figured you'd appreciate it more than the walls of an empty room in Paris." Khoa shrugged, trying to play it off.
Clark didn’t say anything.
Didn’t have to.
The moment stretched.
And then—softly—Clark asked, "Would you like to stay for dinner?"
Khoa hesitated.
Just for a breath.
Then—
"Yeah."
A pause. Then a small, almost imperceptible smile.
"Yeah, I would."
The door shut behind them.