Chapter Text
The first time, it’s Wally.
“Hey, Kal?”
Kaldur looks up from the finer workings of his weapons. He gestures for Wally to sit across from him with an encouraging smiling. “Of course, Wally. What do you need?”
Wally seems shocked at how easily Kaldur interpreted his stance. Whatever is plaguing his mind clearly takes precedent when he sits down.
“I, um.” Emerald eyes drift off somewhere else as Wally collects his thoughts. “I was thinking that I could move in with Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry? And I figured it would really help me, you know? To be around another speedster? And Aunt Iris is so so kind to me—”
“I do not see what you need my council for, Wally,” Kaldur said, not unkindly. “You seem to know what you want.”
“I know what I want,” Wally insists. “I just… I don’t know if it’s what I should do.”
Deliberation isn't an expression often found on Wally's face. It's barely even something he gives a passing thought. As Kaldur looks on now, he sees that Wally is equally put out by his own uncertainty.
“Are you comfortable with telling me what exactly is making this decision a difficult one for you?” Having as much information as he can get his hands on has always been the best way to help those he cares about.
Wally is quick to shake his head, fear pulling every muscle in his body taught. “I—”
“That is more than okay, Wally. I will not pry.” Kaldur leans back in his seat, posture still formal in a Kaldur way. “I just hope that my advice is enough to help you along the right path.”
Kaldur wishes there was more light behind that smile. “I… thanks, Kal. Really.”
The second time, it’s M’gann.
“I promise,” M’gann whispers, “they’re good!”
“With all due respect, M’gann.” Kaldur eyes the tray of freshly baked "cookies" strangely. “These look… odd.” Lumpy, scary, life-threatening--odd is the gentlest way Kaldur can think of describing them.
“Please, Kaldur? I promise I won’t ask you again.” She looks down in embarrassment, cheeks warming. “For today, at least.”
Kaldur makes a sound that would almost be a laugh if it hadn’t gotten stuck somewhere in his throat. “I suppose I will try them.” He plucks one of the maybe-cookies off the tray. “But only because I have the utmost faith that I will not be poisoned by the consumption.”
“I… make no promises?”
Kaldur bites down on the cookie, ready to spit it out—in the most graceful way, of course—but he’s pleasantly surprised when the perfect balance of almond and chocolate floods his tongue. While waiting for his judgement, M'gann sets down the cookie tray
“M’gann,” he says softly. “I, and I do not say this lightly, will be demanding these of you on a regular basis.”
M'gann lights up like the sun, floating off the ground and doing a flip that even Robin would be jealous of. “Really?”
“I cannot lie,” he sighs, “these are spectacular.”
It should be impossible, but her ecstatic grin opens even more. “Thank you so much, Kaldur.”
M’gann’s eyes drop down to the cookies on the counter. Her demeanour instantly changes, from fun and joyous to calculating and unsure. She floats back down, gaze not coming back up to meet Kaldur’s. “Am I… too much?”
Kaldur’s brow shoots up towards his hairline. “I am afraid I do not know what you mean.”
“I mean…” She takes a breath, shoulders just this side of unsteady as she sets down the tray. “You’re all so cool. Even Wally seems too cool for me. I feel like I’m a burden you were all forced to take on because Uncle J’onn asked you to.” Her eyes shimmer like amber stones with tears. “I just think I’m too much. And not enough. All at the same time.”
Kaldur moves to open his mouth, reassure her in some way or another, but M’gann beats him to the punch.
“I’m sorry; I know it really isn’t that common to pour out your heart, especially here—”
“M’gann.” Kaldur steps forward, placing a strong hand on her shoulder. He hopes to give her the confidence she needs with his touch. “Your spot on this team was made because you have proved yourself capable of handling it. We value you.”
It isn’t the perfect reassurance, and he’s not exactly sure he could have given one, but she goes a touch more lax, and he thinks it’s enough of a victory for now.
The third time, it’s Conner.
He doesn’t do much talking. Not at first, anyway.
Kaldur is on the floor, reading a book his King had lent him some time ago. He notes Conner’s arrival, but as time has shown, it’s best to let him come to you instead of seeking him out. Much like a stray dog, which, Kaldur thinks with amusement, is quite accurate.
Conner dances around him for what is much too long. Kaldur, though, ever-patient, keeps his focus on the text in front of him.
“I shouldn’t care what he thinks, right?”
Ah. That’s what this is about. “Are you talking about your… lack of relationship with Superman?”
“I didn’t say that.” Defensive, sippy--Kaldur hit the nail on the head.
Honestly, Kaldur is glad he’s the one Conner decided to come to; he tends to take every twitch of the face in the worst way possible.
“It was implied, no?” Kaldur asks.
Conner huffs in irritation. “I—Yeah, okay, it was.” Something in him must snap, because he’s turning to leave the room. “You know what, I’m just gonna leave.”
“I hope you are not leaving because you think I’m uninterested.” Kaldur tilts his head. “Or that I think you silly.”
Beats pass as Conner stands awkwardly in the space between the living room and the kitchen. “How’d you know?”
“I do not need to be a Martian to know what is upsetting you so much, my friend.” Kaldur fits his bookmark into the spine of the book, placing it down beside him to give Conner a meaningful stare. “Superman has been… less than open to your presence, that much is obvious. You are more than in the right to be upset, because when you stare at each of us, you see people who were trained by people with their powers.” Kaldur cracks a small smile. “Or lack thereof.”
Conner fidgets, movements almost unnoticeable had Kaldur not been looking. He nods. “Okay.”
Conner has always been a person of few words, but his actions are always more meaningful.
The fourth time, it’s Robin—Dick?
“Yo, Kaldur.”
Kaldur sheathes his Water Bearers, chest heaving as his body tries to cool down form his training. “Robin," he pants. "Do you need something?”
“Yeah. Maybe?” Robin eyes the punching back in the far corner, usually only used by him or Artemis; Conner has gone through too many at this point. “Haven’t been very gruntled lately. Very much disgruntled.”
“What is troubling you?”
“So, you know how Batman is about the whole ‘secret identity’ thing. Hence.” He gestures vaguely to the oddly-shaped sunglasses perched on his nose. “And you know that you guys are, like, my friends.”
“I would hope so,” Kaldur jests. Or at least tries too. There’s too much confusion in his voice for much else.
“Well… I figured it was time to, you know, reveal myself.” Robin’s nose scrunches in distaste. “I didn’t like the sound of that.”
“I am afraid I have to agree.”
Robin nods distractedly. “Wally already knows. And that’s not to say that I don’t trust you guys. Because I do. It’s just… it gets annoying inviting your best friend over all the time and pretending to want to wear these stupid things.”
“Are you still asking me something or are you simply venting?” Kaldur asks coolly. He’s not in a particular rush to get Robin moving along, anyhow.
“Right. Sorry. Is both an option?”
“Both is fine, my friend.”
Robin sits them all down later, gives them his name—and Kaldur makes sure to tell Dick that he’s welcome to rant-vent anytime he likes.
The fifth time, it’s Artemis—well, an attempt was made.
If Conner is impossible to coax into opening up, Artemis is like a steel crate, immune to even the toughest of crow bars. Her first method of letting out insecurities? Punch things. Second, if her head isn’t completely crowded with intrusive thoughts? Practicing her archery. Beyond those two points, where it’s life-or-death kind of conditions, she cleans. No one dares touch her when he’s in her cleaning phase.
Unless you’re Kaldur, sage of advice and wisdom.
He doesn’t ask her what’s wrong, doesn’t even open his mouth to announce his presence. He simply sits at the bar stool as Artemis tries to scrub out a stain Wally and Dick will not reveal the origin of.
“Kaldur,” she grinds out, “what?”
“I do not recall asking you anything.”
Her blonde hair whips menacingly as she spins on her heel—but nothing matches the fury in her eyes.
“You don’t want to be smart with me right now.”
“If I remember correctly—and I know I do—you’re the one to be smart with the team and me.”
Her eyes narrow even further, sending a shiver of terror down Kaldur’s spine that he rarely ever feels. “Kaldur.”
“Artemis,” Kaldur soothes, “you are a member of this team. Do not be afraid to turn to us.”
He doesn’t expect much else than the scoff he receives. “Yeah, right.” Artemis’ hand almost blurs with how vigorously she’s scrubbing at the spot. “What the fuck did they do? We don’t even have that much space in this kitchen to ruin, and they’ve managed it—” She stops short.
Kaldur’s brows draw together as he considers slipping off the stool and taking a step towards her. He sees her lip wobble, and he banishes the thought. “I will be in the training room if you need me, Artemis.”
He makes to leave just as Artemis’ voice, shakier and more feeble than it was before, reaches his ears. “What… would you do if—never mind.”
“Artemis—”
“I said never mind. I have to fix Kid Mouth’s mistake.”
Kaldur sighs; sealed tighter than Batman’s vault with the Kryptonite enclosed.
+ when he turns to all of them.
“Kal,” Dick whispers reassuringly, “you’re our leader.”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts.” M’gann arches a brow at him, eerily resembling his own expression. “Don’t doubt yourself.”
Kaldur takes a deep breath as he reads over the mission file once more. “You all truly believe me to be the best option for leader?”
“Kaldur,” Wally chuckles, “frankly, you’re the only option.” Dick glares from behind his mask. It’s true, but that doesn’t mean he has to hear it.
“What if--?”
“Nope.” Artemis walks up to him, placing her hands on his shoulders as a smirk plays at her lips. “So what if we get blown up? It wouldn’t be anything new.”
“That does not give me confidence—”
“We’ll be okay, Kaldur.” Conner gives him a serene look.
“I am just going to ask one more time: you think I am the one member of this team who should occupy the position of leader?”
“So technical,” Dick huffs. “Yes, Kaldur, we think you should be leader.”
“Alright then.” Kaldur closes the mission assignment. “Let’s go.”