Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jonathan Kent is five years old when his super strength abilities manifest for the first time.

He's five years old, and playing outside with one of the many barn cats that lived on their farm. He's running after the cat, a small brown tabby, when suddenly a large shadow comes swooping down. A hawk, easily as big as Jon is small at the time, grabs onto the cat. Desperate to save his pet and friend, Jon jumps after the hawk, reaching out to grab it--

And crushes it in his grasp.

Jon tumbles onto the ground, the resulting crunching from two smaller bodies echoing in his ears for the next thirty minutes on repeat until his mother finds him. Crying and shaking, he's taken inside, and is finally only consoled when both of his parents reassure him they know it was an accident, it's going to be okay, they know he tried to save them both and he didn't mean it.

The sound shows up in his nightmares for the next six years, and sometimes further down the line.

He never forgets what it's like to hold something he loves in his hands and to see it destroyed.

"It's not something to fear. To be wary of, sure. Be cautious. We should always be on guard. But it's never something to fear. This power given to you is a gift. Only you get to decide what you do with it."

It's cold in the Fortress of Solitude, but not as cold as it should be. Staring up at his father's suits in their cases and seeing the Kryptonian history for the first time, Jon begins to understand what exactly being a hero is all about, what exactly he's inherited from his father.

His new powers are showing up in fits in spurts as he grows older, and he's more prone to unloading when he's emotional. His father teaches him how to learn to control it, how to channel his emotions into something more constructive, how to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone else.

Weeks later, he's given his own costume and formally introduced to the Justice League. He's the luckiest boy alive, and not just because he gets to meet all the heroes everyone looks up to and respects and loves. It's because he gets to meet other people who have dealt with powers and learned how to control them and become people that helped others, that have saved lives instead of ending them.

It gives him hope.

Jon is ten years old when he's kidnapped and drugged and taken hostage by none other than Robin.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Batman is lecturing as Jon wakes up, groggy and disoriented. He hasn't felt this way in years. Medicine stopped being as effective a couple years ago, and it takes a lot to wear him out this much. Usually only using his powers nonstop can do it, or flying for longer than ten minutes. Blinking slowly, his head lolls to the side and he sees him for the first time.

He's small, smaller than Jon expected, but there's no mistaking his bright yellow cape as he argues back with Batman. Arguing with Batman, he's crazy, Jon laughs to himself in his mind, still not properly awake. The kid--and he is a kid, Jon sees that now--stands up on a chair to argue with him, finger pointed and voice just as loud and sure as Batman's, if not louder.

"Izzat yer dad?" he mumbles, eyes struggling to focus on the pair. Both spin around to look at him, one of them mumbling something about how he shouldn't be awake yet. Robin runs up to him while Batman turns to the computer.

"...with his genetic makeup, it's possible he could be stronger than his father," Batman's saying, never one to stop an investigation into something interesting. But Jon isn't focusing on him. He's looking up into a mask, seeing the way dark hair curls over the edge of a brown ear and falls in an almost playful manner on the side of his face. Robin is staring down at him with something close to a sneer, and Jon can't help but grin sleepily up at him. A kid! Like him! Another super kid!

Jon is ten years old when he meets Damian Wayne, his new best friend.

It's a long road, becoming Damian Wayne's best friend.

Damian is arrogant. And rude. And a snob. And a thousand other words that Jon could recite from his homework vocabulary lists that mean the same thing, but Damian's still the only other person Jon has ever met that understands truly what it means to live up to a legacy.

Sure, Bart has a lot ahead of him coming from both Barry and Wally, and Aquaman's kid has a whole kingdom to run, but it's different. He knows it'd start an argument with anyone else--even Damian himself--but no one else can quite live up to the infamy surrounding Superman and Batman. There's no other heroes like them anywhere, in any universe.

And despite all of those negative qualities, Jon likes Damian. He's freakishly smart, and can explain anything, even if some of it sounds made up. He's creative, and Jon's seen the way he can solve problems and create beautiful paintings with the same focus and determination. He's so professional on missions, and dedicated, and he works so hard to become the person who will someday fill Batman's shoes. And he cares, he cares so much, about being Robin and wanting to impress his older brothers and about animals. He cares so much that it makes Jon care, a ripple effect of empathy and kindness that turns into a righteous fuel for striving to be better.

As much as Jon rags on him for all of it, he admires Damian. Damian is a hero in his eyes, despite still barely being old enough to be past middle school. Robin is a hero Jon can look up to, and the more missions they go on together, the more times Damian shows up at his window in the middle of the night, the more days they spend going after bad guys and helping people, the more Jon's sure of it.

They're best friends.

"Get away from me, you ungulate. You reek of farm stink."

"I'm pretty sure that's a made up word."

"Your face is a made up word."

Yeah. Besties for life.

Jon is ten, almost eleven years old, and the world is on fire.

Screaming, he sinks down to his knees, trying to hold his hands in front of his eyes to stop the heat vision from shooting out, but even his half-Kryptonian hands can't hold up to it. He pulls them away, crying out at the pain and the overwhelming roaring in his head at the overload of his new ability. It was new, discovered yesterday, and he used it too fast too fast too much too fast and now it wouldn't stop, wouldn't stop coming out until it was spent or he destroyed everything. Whichever came first. Jon didn't know which would be worse.

"Jon! Jon, I'm here--"

"No!" Jon shrieked, throwing out a blistered hand behind him to wave Damian away. Cutting through a building was one thing, burning a streak into the ground was another, but Damian? He couldn't hurt Damian, he couldn't, not Damian, please not Damian--

"I'm here, Kent!" Damian shouted back forcefully, grabbing onto his wrist. Jon let out another sob as more beams burst forward, lighting everything up in red once more as it continued. Damian's grip tightened, then Jon felt it as his hands moved up, grabbing his shoulders, then wrapping around his chest, pulling him back into him and holding on tightly. "Just keep facing forward," Damian ordered, voice right next to Jon's ear, close enough that he could hear him over the earth-shattering static in his head. "Forward and down. I'm not leaving. Not until it's over."

His voice was firm, still in Robin mode, still commanding his teammate to do as he said. But even with everything else, Jon could hear the undertone of concern, could feel the way his gloved hands were gripping him tightly, were holding him closer than even when they hugged. He could hear Damian's terrified heartbeat pounding alongside his own. Why wasn't he running?

"I'm here," Damian repeated, like he could read Jon's mind and cut through the panic. "I'm not leaving." Jon was still crying, but he nodded, placing his hands over Damian's and holding on just as tightly, able to weather it now that he wasn't alone. Damian was staying.

He stayed until the beams died down to flickering lights. He remained by his side until Superman arrived a few seconds too late, all worried words and making sure he was okay and pulling him up and out of the scene, him and Damian both. Damian stayed as they arrived at the Fortress, making sure nothing was wrong, making sure it was just an overload. Damian kept holding onto him, continued to hold the ice to his rapidly healing hands as Jon lied down, completely drained from the ordeal. Damian was the last thing he saw before he finally passed out, and Damian was what he woke up to when he was suddenly back home and completely healed.

Jon is ten, almost eleven years old when he looks at the sleeping boy on his floor and realizes he's never going to trust anyone else like he trusts Damian Wayne.

"You've never thought Wonder Woman was hot? Never? Never ever?"

"Gar, that's gross!"

Jon is thirteen years old and at a mandatory Teen Titans sleepover. Usually it consists of Gar and Damian arguing over movies to watch and then everyone passing out unless a mission comes up, but this time Gar's started asking personal questions. It started out as just a way to annoy Damian, but then everyone had been dragged into it and now it was some weird game of twenty questions where Gar asked everything and everyone kept groaning every ten seconds.

"How is it gross?" Gar asked, exasperated as he looked at Jon. "Have you seen her?!"

"She's like my aunt, dude!" Jon made a face, flipping over where he was floating in the air. He pulled the pillow closer to his chest, sticking out his tongue. "No way. I can't even imagine thinking of her like that. I'm pretty sure she helped change my diapers."

"Some people are into that," Gar pointed out helpfully, which ended in Raven throwing a glowing pillow at his face. Jon hated that question, anyways, and was glad when Starfire changed the subject. People were always asking about crushes, now that he was in middle school. Who he liked, or thought was hot, did he see so-and-so in her shorts? Bleh. He didn't care about any of that. Who cared about holding hands, anyways? What was the point? Your palms just got all sweaty. What was fun about that?

"Move over," Damian grunted grumpily as he returned from the kitchen with popcorn. He shoved one of Jon's shoes out of his face as he sat, and with a grin, Jon dropped out of the air and down next to him, pressing against his side as he reached for the popcorn. Damian sighed heavily, but didn't even bother to go into the usual arguments: "I'm 16, I'm too old to sit like this in front of people," or "Kent, you act like a depraved lapdog," or "Can we go one day without your needy ass clambering all over me?" It must be a good day, then, considering the way he shifted the bowl over so Jon could reach. Maybe he just liked the way Aqualad was clearly trying to steer the conversation to something a little more 13 year old friendly.

"What about you, Rob?" Gar turned suddenly, sticking a ruffled hyena's head out from under the pile of glowing pillows to look over at Damian. "You ever thought Wonder Woman was hot?"

Damian didn't hesitate a second before replying, "Crushing on someone more than thrice your age is clearly a sign of a disjointed childhood, nevermind the obvious 'mommy issues' implied there. I suggest you seek professional help." The other Titans burst into laughter, Jon included, and he could hear it when Damian's heart skipped a beat as his head thumped against his arm. Proud of his own joke, huh?

Damian didn't like holding hands either. Jon knew. Damian never let anyone hold his hand. But he never seemed to mind when Jon pulled him into a hug, well past the stage of resisting the shoulder touches and grabs. He didn't seem to care as Jon's feet ended up slung across his lap later during the prank phone calls, and he didn't bother to move when Jon's head dropped onto his shoulder during the movies.

Neither of them liked holding hands with anyone. That was why they were best friends, Jon thought lazily to himself as he began drifting off, face smashed into Damian's deltoid. His arm was loosely wrapped around Damian's, hand resting on his forearm while Damian's hand was on the couch cushion next to Jon's knee. They were best friends because they agreed on simple things like that. Where it counted. Where it mattered.

Wonder Woman was too much like a mom to be hot. Holding hands was dumb. And sitting on the couch to watch movies with your best friends was never something you could grow out of.

Damian is leaving for college the week after Jon turns 16. They facetime when Jon passes his driving test two days later. He and Damian set up Thursday nights for phone calls, and he listens while working on his History homework about why college is pointless when Damian already could have had a degree in all of this by the time he was eight. Jon flies out once a month to do hero work with him and hang out, tours his college campus, meets his new friends.

After six months and winter break goes by, they start speaking less. Damian is busy with his insane workload and managing hero work in a whole new city, Jon is trying to keep the Titans organized while Damian's away, it makes sense. Thursday nights fall into "maybe this weekend" falls into "I'll try you next week!" falls into spare texts sent when either of them thinks about it. Even then, the texts begin to dwindle until there's little contact at all between them.

Sure, they still run into each other during the occasional world-ending crisis that pops up, or at the Justice League holiday party, or when Jon's family is invited out to the Manor for Thanksgiving dinner. But over the next few years, Jon and Damian fall out of touch.

Jon has other friends. It's fine, really! He has his school friends to hang out with, and the other Titans members. He gets a job at the local grocery store. He plays on the football team as a cornerback. He asks Molly Wilson-Lang to senior prom and they kiss. (They date for two weeks afterwards, but she breaks up with him, telling him she thinks that he was better as a friend. It's amicable.) And then suddenly it's the end of his senior year and he's applying to colleges and wondering about whether he could commit to a sports scholarship and balance hero work and he's staring at four acceptance letters thinking could I could I could I when his phone rings.

Jon blinks.

He answers.

"Damian?"

"Jon," the prompt voice on the other end clips back, and he can feel the tension easing out of his shoulders at the same time his chest tightens up. He hasn't spoken to Damian in--god, what has it been, months? They hung out for an hour or so after the last big League team up, but before then--how long has it even been?

"Hey!" he says, unable to hide the surprise in his voice. "How have you been?"

"Mm. Acceptable." A typical vague Damian answer. Jon can't help but smile, listening as Damian asks, "I didn't mean to call so late. Were you busy?"

"No! Not at all." Jon leans away from his desk, looking over to the wall by his window. "Just homework, but you know. Why, what's up?"

There's only half a beat of hesitation, but it's enough that Jon picks up on it, is immediately sitting forward at attention, years of knowing Damian's habits as well as his own reigniting in a single millisecond. Whatever this is, it's serious.

"We're hosting a gala this weekend to celebrate me graduating early. The benefits will all be going towards the World Wildlife Foundation, of course. I was wondering if you would be free to attend."

A gala? Definitely not what Jon was expecting, but if it meant enough to Damian that he wanted Jon there, of course he'd go.

Of course.

"Yeah, definitely! I'm not doing anything." Jon smiled, and he knew Damian couldn't see him, but he smiled anyways, and nodded. "I'll be there for sure. Black tie, right? Like always?"

"It doesn't technically have to be black," Damian responds back on automatic, a hint of amusement in his voice as he reminds Jon for the hundredth time. "It's simply a guideline."

"Of course it is," Jon grins. The small change in tone was enough for him. Damian was set at ease for now, the crisis was on hold. Hopefully things would be cleared up this weekend and he could figure out what was going on and help him, somehow. "Anything I should bring?"

"Just yourself will be fine," Damian was quick to answer, and Jon could picture the face he was making. "I'm sure every other brown noser and rising socialite will more than provide what we need. I'm looking forward to making a sizable donation."

"Always the philanthropist," Jon teased, realizing how easy it was, how natural it felt to fall back into their usual banter. Months without speaking, but they still hadn't missed a single step. It was like no time had gone by at all. Best friends for life.

"I try." Damian cleared his throat, and Jon could hear the soft whisper of a command to someone, probably some staff that was trying to ask him a question. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid Father needs me immediately. Probably some inane decision regarding table placements."

"Probably," Jon laughed, then sat back in his chair again. "Have fun with that."

"As much fun as sticking burning needles in my eyes. Have a good night, Jon. I'll see you this weekend."

"Yeah, see you, D." Damian hung up a second later, and Jon looked down at his now dark phone screen, sitting in the silence for a moment. Looking from the phone to the college letters on his desk, he sent a text to his coach before reaching up to turn his desk lamp off.

I decided on Gotham U! Full ride, here we come!

Jon is two months from turning 18, two weeks from graduating high school, and Wayne Galas are just as extravagant as he remembers. He hadn't been to one since he was a kid, maybe fourteen, but all the gold and pristine white and the shininess of it all still amazes him every time he walks through the doors. He waves to Alfred as he walks past him through the doors, stops to talk to Dick and Barbara who are by the food tables. He sees Tim talking to someone with cameras nearby, spots someone who looks suspiciously like the 'dead' family member hanging out near a tall, red-haired woman.

Jon recognizes more people than he expected to, realizing a little too late this wasn't a typical gala. It was definitely just an elaborate excuse for Bruce to throw a graduation party. He must have been proud of Damian, but who wouldn't be! Graduating a year early with a double major! Jon didn't even think that was possible.

He waves at Diana as he passes by her, talking a bit to Bart and Tai, who are locked in an argument about something involving the fountains out back. He's nearly all the way through the main room when he picks up on a familiar heartbeat, turning around at the same moment his name is called. He stops, mouth frozen in a wide grin, and has to adjust his glasses.

"Damian!" That's Damian, it's gotta be. Jon hadn't realized how tall he'd gotten as he watches Damian come over in a perfectly pressed and tailored suit. They're nearly eye to eye, and Damian might even have an inch on him. But it's the same intense green gaze, the same polite smile, the same formal posture that Jon's known his whole life. "Hey!" He pulls him into a brief hug, pulling back and punching him lightly on the arm. "Look at you! Damian with a double degree!"

"Yes, well. Long time coming," Damian answers easily, but Jon can see it the second he begins to relax, the way his shoulders lower minutely, hear it in the way his heartbeat slows to the same pattern Jon's had memorized since they were children. Jon smiles at him, watches Damian's carefully composed 'public face' relax into a small smile, follows him out to a balcony to catch up, spends the rest of the night wondering why he had ever been worried they were drifting apart when it was so easy for them to pick up where they left off.

They don't talk about girlfriends or boyfriends or hand holding or who they've been with. They talk about what Damian was planning to do with his degree, what he wants to do when he inherits Wayne Enterprises in a few years. They talk about Jon's college plans, about how he's thinking of changing his hero name, about what the Titans have been up to and how they missed Damian.

They don't talk about how neither of them had tried to reach out more. Instead, they talk about the future, talking about it like this had been the plan all along. They talk like they're never going to be apart again, talk about what they're going to do together, now and in a week and months and years from now. They talk about the new anime movie coming out that Jon will inevitably drag Damian to, about the foreign films Damian insists Jon needs to see, about the different wildlife rehabilitation centers they can visit together.

Two months later, Jon turns 18, he moves into his dorm on Gotham University's campus, and Damian's there to help him drag the final boxes up the stairs and make fun of him for not using his super strength on the last trip up, mentions casually how the manor is only a ten minute drive from here. Jon shows him his stockpiled microwave ramen packets and Damian tries to hide a hundred dollar bill in his desk.

Jon lets him. Only because he knows it means Damian will come back around to make sure he's used it to buy groceries and not just more ramen. Lois kisses Damian on the cheek as his parents leave, and Jon pretends not to notice the way Damian's smiled the entire day.

Jon Kent is 19 and has finally hit his final growth spurt. He clocks in at 6'4, and he laughs when Damian throws a batarang at him as he tells him. He tosses it back, taking another step forward on their usual rooftop meeting spot just to rub it in. Damian has to look up at him now, and it makes Jon smile, knowing that they'll never get rid of the height dynamic they've had since they were kids. It feels familiar, going back to him being a few inches taller than Damian, like when they first met and Damian was furious about it. He lets Damian push him once, then stands his ground the second time, then laughs and picks him up after the third.

They fly to the weekly Titans meeting arguing about what Tim had said earlier, and Damian's quick to drop the argument as soon as they walk in, falling immediately into the stoic leadership role he's always been good at. He's been even more serious since changing his name to Robinhood, since he became a hero in his own right and proving that he could be on his own. Jon settles into the chair to watch him speak, hardly listening to anyone else's reports as he focuses on Damian, watches the way he makes decision after decision with ease.

He's come a long way, Jon thinks. Where there was once a boy eager to prove himself, now there was a man, sure of himself and his decisions, who not only gave orders but listened to his teammates. He wasn't young and angry and hurting and 13 anymore. Damian was Robinhood, a 22 year old hero who had proved himself time and time again to be more than capable. He let his empathy show more often, he was more careful in the way he spoke, he was more open about the issues he cared about.

It was only when Damian turned to Jon to ask him a question that Jon realized how long he'd been staring at him, been focusing too hard on the curve of his neck where it hit his shoulders, been too lost in thought over Damian Damian Damian that he had no idea what he was supposed to say.

"Uh--whatever--whatever you said, Rob!" Jon tried to recover quickly, sitting up and hoping his blush wasn't as obvious as it felt. He could hear Gar snickering across the table, feel the way Starfire was staring a hole in the side of his head, could see Bart covering his mouth out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't see Damian's eye roll through his mask, but he could see the slight tinge of pink that appeared at the bottom of it as the other turned to continue addressing the rest of the gathered heroes.

It definitely wasn't the lighting in here. That was a blush. Damian was blushing.

Holy--

Jon and Damian lingered as everyone dispersed, waving finally to Raven, who was on monitor duty tonight, as she walked off down the hallway. They stood in silence for a few minutes, walking toward the balcony where they'd be taking off. Jon was staring down at his boots, trying to figure out how on earth he could bring this up. Did he...was he supposed to apologize? Ask? Be angry? No, why would he be angry?

Instead, it was Damian that broke the silence.

"You really need to be paying more attention during these meetings."

Surprised, Jon looked up and over at Damian. He was looking straight ahead, face perfectly blank as he continued walking at the same speed. Interestingly enough, his heartbeat sounded a little louder than it usually did, but Jon pushed that away for now. Before he could ask, Damian was talking again.

"I know they can seem trivial, but they are important. It's important to know what's going on with all the members at all times so that we can be as organized as possible. If we don't, we won't appear as well oiled as I know we can be, and if that's the case, then we--"

"Right. Pay attention, I got it," Jon interrupted, wondering why Damian was trying to overexplain the topic. When had he ever been one to give too much information? "Sorry?"

"Don't be," Damian replied quickly. Too quickly. And there went the blush again. He could tell when Damian noticed, because he picked up the pace, leaving Jon to hurry after him.

"Wait! Damian, I--" He took a jump, landing just beside Damian with a hand on the door, pushing it shut again before Damian could open it, causing the lock to whirr and groan. He paused for a second, struggling to come up with something to say, and then Damian was turning around to look at him and he was right there, inches away, looking up at him.

Time slowed to a crawl as Jon looked down at him, looking over his face. The mask was still on, but if he used his vision just a bit, he could see the green eyes underneath, could see the way they were looking up at him in annoyance and confusion. Damian's mouth, already parting to make what was no doubt going to be some sort of snide comment, was right there.

Jon jolted backwards a few steps, hands coming together in front of him awkwardly. Why was he looking at Damian's mouth?? In an effort to save the moment, he blurted out, "I was thinking about you! And how you've become such a good leader and stuff! And I was thinking about how you've changed since we were kids and it's just a good thing and you're just--" Damian was now openly staring at him, face blank and surprised. Oh god, he had made this so much worse.

"I'm proud of you," he finished lamely, shoulders sagging. Way to make this weird, Kent, the voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Damian said. This couldn't have been made any weirder, honestly, even if he had mentioned how he'd thought about it before. "Let's just get home."

Damian was silent the entire flight back to the manor, only offering a small wave and a quiet 'goodnight' when Jon dropped him off. He flew off into the sky, groaning out loud when he was finally up above the cloud layer.

Jon Kent was 19 years old, and he had a crush on his best friend.

It was turning out to be significantly more than a crush.

Every time they saw each other, it was like Jon was noticing more and more things about Damian he'd never thought about before. The way his hair curled slightly at the base of his neck; how his eyes looked greyer on days where the sun wasn't out; how his uniformed shoulders seemed wider than they had a year ago; how his voice would get soft and quiet when speaking with children; how even though he acted annoyed every time he spoke about his brothers, he would be hiding a smile. It was things Jon had always known, had always seen happen, but it was like it was all in a new light.

Sitting in the manor kitchen one weekend while Damian was cooking with Alfred and complaining about Dick not returning his texts except with emojis, Jon realized he had probably loved Damian from the very beginning. It was different then, of course. Loving someone and being in love with someone are two different things. But how can you really be in love with someone if you haven't loved every part of them? Haven't seen them grow and change into the person they are now?

Then, one day at the end of an alien invasion, Jon turned and saw an alien who had previously been knocked down standing up again. The battle was over, they were working on gathering civilians and getting them away and out of the wreckage, and one of the aliens was standing again, holding its blaster up and taking aim--

Right at Damian.

Before he even realized what was happening, Jon was diving forward, blocking Damian from the blast and taking it in the back, sending them both to the ground. He stood, firing off his heatvision at the alien and sending it down for good. The burn on his back was sparking weirdly, crackling in his joints. He could feel the heat thrumming through his veins, starting where the alien had hit him and spreading quickly. It was like the super flare was building up without his control, something he hadn't had to worry about in years. Jon looked down at his hands in a panic, vision turning black and white.

"Superboy! What was the meaning of that?"

Damian was right behind him.

Jon whipped around, eyes wide, terrified as he realized Damian was stumbling towards him. "No! Stay back!" he told him, intending to back up but ended up tripping on the rubble. Damian paused, but only for a moment, and seemed to realize what was happening a second later. Instead of doing the sensible thing, Damian rushed forward, grabbing Jon's wrists and looking him in the eye.

"Look at me, Kent. Look at me." His voice was firm, gaze unwavering. Jon's panicked breathing was bouncing back in his ears, but Damian's voice was enough to pull him back in, to make him freeze and look and nod as Damian continued speaking to him. "Breathe. I'm right here. You can control it, I know you can."

Shakily, Jon shook his head, but Damian didn't let him argue at all. "Breathe. Control it. You control where the flare goes. It does not control you. Breathe, Jon." His voice dropped lower, more soothing. "I'm right here. I'm not leaving."

I'm staying.

Damian had stayed, for years and years and years, always by his side, always helping him through every odd bump and terrible incident in his life. Damian had stayed by his side when he wasn't allowed in the Titans, then when he became a part time member, then co-leader. Damian had stayed by his side through school, through growing up, through their awkward teen years and beyond. Damian had been there when the nightmares about his first cat as a child had resurfaced, had talked him down when he could still feel the snap like toothpicks in his hands even when he had woken back up. Damian had helped him become the hero he wanted to be, had been there for every moment in Jon's life that mattered, and he was here now.

Slowly, Jon raised his hands up, holding either side of Damian's face as Damian held onto his wrists, solidly, steadily, unwavering. He grit his teeth, forcing himself to breathe as he stared down at Damian's mask, and slowly, his vision began to fade back into color. The glow seeping out of him died down, the flare lowered and shrank and finally dissipated, leaving him exhausted but in control once more.

Damian had stayed by his side the entire time, nodding in confirmation, saying without speaking, I knew you could do it.

Jon was holding something he loved in his hands, and he would not let it be destroyed.

Clean up took hours, and it felt like it took just as long for Jon to find Damian once everyone had gathered back at the JLA headquarters. People kept talking to him, kept standing in his way, and he tried not to sound annoyed, but he had to get to him, had to tell him now. Really, it was stupid, why he had never told him before. Because even if it went poorly, even if Damian said no and rejected him, they were best friends. Damian had to know how he felt before they could go forward.

Jon loved him.

The thought made him giddy, spurred him on in his search, and finally found him just seconds before he and Nightwing and Batman were stepping on the transporter to send them back to Gotham.

"Da--Robinhood! Wait!" Jon waved an arm, then launched himself into the air as the trio turned back around. He flew over the last few people in his way, landing in front of Damian and running the last few steps. He could feel the stares of Batman and Nightwing--interested and curious--on them, and floundered for a second before he said, "Can I come back with you? We need to talk?"

Like Damian could feel his older brother's smile growing wider behind him, he frowned and nodded, grabbing Jon's arm and pulling him quickly onto the transporter. It wasn't his favorite way to travel, considering he could just fly home, but he waited as the others stepped on, trying not to freak out over the fact that Damian still had a possessive hand on his arm like he was sure Dick would try and pull him away for something. Jon was buzzing out of his skin as they reached the Batcave, watching nervously as Bruce and Dick walked out of earshot. He turned to Damian, opening his mouth, and was immediately shushed by Damian shoving his hand over his mouth.

"They can still hear us," Damian told him as an explanation. "Fly us to your place." Not wanting to wait or disobey, Jon grabbed him and they shot out of there probably faster than they should have. Within seconds, they were landing on the roof of a building a couple blocks away from Jon's dorm, the cool night air rushing in as he set Damian down somewhat reluctantly. He fidgeted in front of him for a moment, unsure of how to start, but as soon as he began, Damian was interrupting him.

"No, hold on." Damian looked down at the ground between them. "Before you say anything, there's something I need to tell you." Confused, Jon nodded, keeping his arms crossed comfortably in front of him.

"I apologize if I was overstepping after the fight today," he began, and Jon could feel his eyes widen. "I acted without thinking. Seeing you in distress, it reminded me...I did what I thought was best. I'm sorry if it made things more difficult for you."

Slowly, a confused smile began to cross Jon's face, and he opened his mouth to tell him it was fine--but once again, Damian was holding up a hand.

"I'm not finished, Kent. I need--there's something more." He took a deep breath, making Jon freeze. Why was Damian hesitating? Damian never hesitated. Before he could think himself into a frenzy, Damian was looking up at Jon, taking his mask off, staring at him in determination with some sort of emotion he didn't recognize--

Oh.

Oh.

Damian's green eyes bored into Jon's blue ones, burning with a small flicker of light behind them, and Jon's breath was gone from his chest before he could even hear what Damian had to say. It was the same thing he had felt today, the same look he had on his own face as he struggled to find Damian after the battle, the same way they had looked at each other for years and years and years.

"Me too," he rushed out, making Damian's nose crinkle as he was interrupted, and Jon laughed. He laughed breathlessly, taking a step forward as his arms fell. "Me too, Damian. I do. I like you, too. I'm--that's what I was going to tell you!"

The blush was slowly creeping across Damian's face again, and he snapped, "You don't know that's what I was going to say!" But Jon could see it, could hear the uptick of his heartbeat, could see the way Damian wasn't moving back--he was stepping forward, he wasn't resisting it as Jon's arms were reaching for him.

"I love you, Damian," he told him, voice breaking on the last word as a giant smile split his face. His hands landed heavily, clumsily on Damian's shoulders, pulling him into a hug, crashing their foreheads together in a way he knew Damian would yell at him later for. "I love you, I do, I just kept thinking it but I never told you, and I kept telling myself--"

"Do you ever stop talking?" Damian huffed out, and instead of waiting for Jon to respond, reached up to pull him down into a firm kiss. Jon's arms wrapped around Damian, pulling him close, felt it as Damian relaxed into the embrace, pressed against him like he'd been waiting for this, too. He kissed him like he hadn't wanted to do anything else, and Jon kissed him back, telling him I'm here I'm here I'm here.

When they finally broke apart, both of them a little breathless, Damian admitted quietly, "I do, as well. Obviously." Jon could only laugh, kissing him again on his nose, his cheek, across his jaw and in his hair. Damian let out a noise that sounded like a scoff, but he was still gripping Jon's uniform tightly, keeping him close, not letting him go. Jon was more than happy to stay where they were, wrapped up in each other. They could worry about anything else later. Right now, Damian was in his arms, and that was all that mattered.

Jon Kent is 19 years old, and he is in love with his best friend.

And Damian loves him back.