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It was pretty underwhelming how they found out, all things considered.
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Did you know Superman has really good hearing?! Freddy had told him once. What a nut he was, memorizing all these factoids about men and women and aliens he would never meet. It endeared him to Billy, and to be honest, Billy was the person he was today because of those random things. Freddy would spout… Like, he can hear what happens all the way across the PLANET! And he’s fast enough to catch the bad guys.
Billy had laughed, good-natured. Superman was his hero; wasn’t he everyone’s? He’d started out admiring him from afar—admiring all of them from Fawcett, where he tried to be the best version of himself because that was just what heroes did.
Billy’s lips twitched, and he wondered if the things he could hear as Captain Marvel were figments of his imagination, or whether he had that in common with his idol.
Sure, he’d said, everyone knows that. But he can’t listen to everything at once, you know?
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It was a careless mistake on his part, really. Five years was a long time to keep a secret; although technically he hadn’t been doing it very well. Freddy had found out, then Darla, then the rest of his family. It was why he couldn’t keep himself in their foster home; they’d be in danger, and it wasn’t so difficult, being out on his own.
Sivana knew who he was. Adam knew who he was. Billy actually found that kind of funny, that he didn’t mind having his arch nemeses (?) know exactly who was behind the magical, invincible Captain Marvel. It was a joke, really—an inside one between the people who terrorized Fawcett and he who protected it.
But nothing had prepared him for this.
Uh oh, Billy thought, face to face with the Man of Steel himself—Superman—Clark, who was currently standing in his run down bedroom, next to his secondhand mattress and staring down at his threadbare hoodie, more of a faded gray than the Captain Marvel red it used to be.
What are you doing here, he almost asked, wracked with anxiety and confusion, before he finally realized that shouting SHAZAM after a League cleanup in Fawcett probably hadn’t been the best idea. Clark was looking at him like he was a stranger—and oh goodness, that’s what he was, someone who’d taken advantage of his teammates’ trust and wormed his way into a place in which he didn’t belong.
He realized, in that moment, that from now on he'd be alone.
“Uhh,” Billy blurted out, before slapping a hand over his mouth. That was probably suspicious though, so he dropped it immediately, opting to clench his hands by his sides instead… and when that didn’t work, he just fiddled with the hem of his clothes. “I mean—holy moly, uh. It’s you! Superman! Wooow…”
Billy trailed off when Clark kept staring—and what did that stare mean exactly—because Billy realized that his heart was pounding like crazy to the tune of liar liar I’m a lying liar who lies. Gosh, Billy, you’ve done it now.
He wondered if Clark could hear the sound of him thinking; if he heard the guilt in his muscles and in the twitches of his expression. Probably, considering how Clark still wasn’t talking—
“What’s your name?” he finally said. It made Billy flinch. It was neither a question nor a gentle nudge, but a statement. His eyes were hard, his mouth a tight line.
And although he’d been doing it for years, Billy couldn’t make himself lie anymore.
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As Captain Marvel, he had pretty good hearing. Billy Batson who was, quote unquote, “just a twelve year old kid” did not have any such advantage. But this, quote unquote, “kid who was just twelve years old” didn’t need super duper hearing to listen in on Clark and Diana’s heated argument. Bruce was there too, which meant his sidekick would be around as well. The conversation wasn’t too difficult to understand, but he was rather impressed by how easily they could string together the words “kid”, “child”, and “twelve” in such creative ways. His heart hurt, but nothing was more painful than being pushed aside as a mere child.
Still, he winced when he heard the word “homeless!?” exclaimed in a particularly shrill voice. Billy couldn’t even tell whose it was.
Billy had half a mind to just mumble SHAZAM and get out of here. Maybe he could hide in the Rock of Eternity for a couple of decades; surely they wouldn’t mind him being part of the League if he was thirty-two… Yeah, he really wasn’t helping his case here, was he, and oh no, he really was starting to spiral now, this was the worst thing that could ever happen….
… Someone came to his rescue.
“Nice hoodie,” Jason—Robin—said, leaning against the wall he was currently slumped against.
“I got it from a thrift store,” he answered dully.
“Looks warm,” Jason added.
“It is.”
The lull in the conversation wasn’t too bad, but it definitely wasn’t like the easy silence they’d shared on Gotham rooftops whenever Billy came to visit.
“So, what’s up?” Jason asked, tilting his head down at Billy. He wasn’t wearing a mask, and that, more than anything, came to Billy as a surprise.
He’d never seen Robin without his mask.
Billy looked at him incredulously. “You’re kidding, right?”
Jason just shook his head, saying, “Nope.” He popped the p and everything.
Billy looked miserable at that.
“Okay. Lemme just talk for a coupla minutes, and you can just listen. Nope—” Jason said again when Billy tried to interrupt, making a zipping motion across his mouth, “gimme a sec, I’ll make it quick.”
Billy’s lips trembled, but he trusted Jason. He always had.
“You’re thinking you fuuuh—uh, screwed up. Right?” Billy made to say yes, but Jason kept talking anyway. “You’re thinking, well shucks, this is bad. Heeeee—ck, this is terrible. Right?” he urged, and this time, Jason waited for him to nod.
“This is—this is a disaster,” Billy hiccuped, feeling a shameful prickling in his eyes. “None of this is good.”
Jason shut his eyes and let out a deep breath; oddly enough, he looked more at peace than Billy had ever seen him. Then Jason wrapped an arm around his shoulders and held him, close and dear and fond and sad. “‘None of this is good’, huh… Billy, that doesn’t mean you weren’t good.”
“…”
“Be good and good will follow, right? You're the one who told me that. Well, it’ll come, I promise. You just gotta wait a little longer.”
Billy squeezed his eyes shut. It didn’t feel so bad then, having a few tears slip out.
It would be okay.
“…can I still call you Jason?” Billy murmured, quiet yet hopeful at the same time. Will I still be allowed to?
“‘Course,” his friend said simply.
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The League had a good, long talk about Billy and Captain Marvel and the future of their team. It felt like hours—heck, it probably had been hours since they convened inside the meeting hall—
But when Clark opened the doors, his eyes this time were soft.
“I should have said this earlier,” Clark said earnestly, “but I’m glad to finally meet you, Billy.”
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Be good, and good will follow.
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