Work Text:
The First Time
“Run away with me,” Jon said suddenly, as he and Damian were lying in the tall grasses of the Kent farm.
Damian frowned and twisted his fingers in the blades. He didn’t speak for a long time, unsure of what to say.
Jon sat up, flushing profusely. “I mean it,” he said, staring at Damian fervently. “We can pack our bags and just leave everything. We can live in a treehouse, or the Fortress of Attitude! We can fight crime as much as we want, and go wherever we want, and eat whatever we want, and no one will be able to tell us what to do.”
Damian frowned even more, and sat up. He faced Jon fully as he replied. “Kent, you’re being ridiculous. My father and yours would find us within hours. Contrary to how they act, they can be rather proficient when they desire to.”
Jon opened his mouth to argue, but Damian silenced him with a glare and a soft “Tt.”
“And what would we even do? You are absolutely useless without your mother packing your lunch for you. And I doubt I could keep us afloat with my allowance, nor would I be able to access my funds at only fourteen, due to some preposterous laws. And education is important. I, of course, have learned all I will need to, but you still have much to accomplish. I will not be held responsible for keeping you from obtaining a meager education.”
Jon pouted, and Damian had to soften his glare ever so slightly. Jon took this as a win - though he knew that Damian could never truly be mad at him.
Damian scoffed and stood up. “Come, your mother will doubtless have finished preparing our evening meal by now.” He stalked off toward the house, not deigning to check to see if his best friend was following.
Jon sat, completely still, before cracking a small smile. He hopped up and started back towards the warm glowing light of his home.
“That wasn’t a ‘no,’ ” he reasoned softly as he floated after Damian.
The Second Time
“This wouldn’t have happened if we had just run away together.”
Damian scoffed and continued to stitch up his side, mechanically going through the steps of patching himself up.
Jon sighed dramatically and floated closer. “It’s true! If it were just you and me, we wouldn’t have had to listen to our dads, and therefore you wouldn’t have gotten hit by that thug.”
“Tt,” Damian hissed, though Jon could tell it was from pain and not annoyance. “Something would have happened eventually. I hardly believe that my Father and yours are directly responsible for every injury you and I sustain.”
Jon tilted his head, smiling lightly. “I don’t know, Dami. That kind of sounds like the definition of parenting.”
“Tt.”
Damian frowned harder at his stitches, clearly trying to ignore Jon. He didn’t quite succeed, which became apparent when he finished the last stitch, and required a blade of some sort to cut the strand. There was no such tool within his reach, so Damian was forced to glance over at his friend and ask for him to hand Damian the scissors.
Jon complied, though as he pressed the pair of scissors into Damian’s hands, he didn't let go immediately. Damian glanced up, a wordless question upon his brow.
“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Jon muttered once he had captured Damian’s gaze with his own.
The fifteen year old swallowed ever so slightly, then nodded. “It is unavoidable in this line of work…” he glanced down and busied himself with wrapping up his stitches. “However… I shall endeavour to avoid such inconveniences in the future.”
Jon grinned triumphantly and sat down next to Damian.
“Thanks Dami, I appreciate it.”
Still not a ‘no,’ he thought.
The Third Time
“Father is being absolutely ridiculous!” Damian exclaimed as he took another furious bite of a scone between fiddling with his game controller.
Jon shrugged from where he had draped himself over the couch in the game room of Wayne Manor, lazily playing the video game upside down. “I don’t know, Dami. This actually seems pretty rational for your dad.”
Damian whipped his head towards Jon, absolutely seething. He opened his mouth to snap a retort, but was drawn away by the light chime of a new level unlocked. He glared profusely at the screen, muttering under his breath as he maneuvered out the tight situation his avatar had been in.
“You don’t understand, Jonathan,” Damian practically whined after he came to a good rest point and paused the game. “I have been able to drive since I was five years old! It is completely unnecessary for me to go to some school or get some tutor to ‘teach me’ again. Just because I am sixteen, and it is custom for american teenagers to receive their license at this time does not mean that I too should go through meaningless preparation!”
Jon frowned. “Wait, he’s getting you a tutor.”
Damian threw his hands up. “Close enough.”
Jon sat up, setting his controller to the side. “But you said he was gonna make sure you learned.”
“Not exactly. He told me he would ‘see to my learning’ which, knowing him, means he’d drop me off on someone else.”
Damian squinted in the direction of the platter of scones Alfred had brought before darting one of his hands out to snatch yet another. It was honestly kind of cute to Jon. It made Damian seem like a cat.
“Dami…” Jon trailed off, rubbing his chin, “I don’t think Bruce would just ship you off to someone else to ‘learn’ to drive.”
Damian scoffed, so Jon rushed on. “No, seriously! He wants to spend time with you.”
“That has not gone well in the past.”
Jon rolled his eyes. “That’s the point! Wasn’t he the one who tried to homeschool you first before you started to rebel, so then Alfred tried with you, then Gotham Academy, then you went to school with me?”
“That is not entirely incorrect.”
Jon preened. “Or what about when you got Titus? Your dad was the one who tried to train him with you, and then you didn’t like that, so you did it yourself? Or when you tried to learn pottery? Or when Bruce got on that whole kick about you two playing duets together, y’know, with your violin and his piano? Or how about that month you were obsessed with iguanas?”
“They are marvelous creatures who deserve any praise coming their way.”
Jon smiled softly. “Don’t you see? He wants to teach you to drive! It’s - it’s like bonding!”
Damian sat still in thought for a long minute, and Jon held his breath. He was almost positive that he was right, but how would Damian react?”
“I…” Damian began, looking up, “believe your assumption to be correct. It is entirely the type of idiotic plan my father would concoct. I will take this new information into consideration.”
Jon leaned back, satisfied. They both turned around to their screen, and continued the game. The bright colors of the graphics flashed across the screen, which was a strangely calming effect.
“Adults are confusing and frustrating,” Damian muttered half an hour later, so quietly that Jon wasn't quite sure he was supposed to hear.
“You know,” Jon said as he leaned over to grab a scone, “you wouldn’t have to deal with this if we ran away together.”
Damian snorted and glanced over. “Oh, really? And what do you propose, sleepovers in a treehouse every night? Roasting marshmallows over an open fire?”
Jon shrugged, “I think that sounds nice.”
Damian scoffed, “You are only fifteen, Jonathan. It is not an option.”
Jon added the ‘yet’ himself.
The Fourth Time
“And why on earth is this considered the height of American culture?”
“It’s baseball, Dami!”
“And how is that an explanation?”
Jon shrugged and rolled the baseball over in his hands for a few seconds. “It just is.”
Damian scoffed, but didn’t put up any more complaints as Jon wound up and threw the ball in Damian’s direction. The seventeen year old swung the bat skillfully and hit the ball with a firm CRACK.
It flew farther and farther till it was out of sight.
“Home run!” Jon called, and flew over to grab it. He was back a split second later, a grin on his face. The grin was infectious, and Damian couldn’t help but give a small smirk in return.
“How did you even do that?” Jon laughed as he demanded, “You said you never played before!”
Damian raised a single eyebrow, á la Alfred, “Assassin training, don’t you recall?”
Jon frowned. “Assassins play baseball?”
Damian snorted. “No, but I have incredible reflexes.”
Jon wound up his arm again. “Oh, really? Then you should be able to handle my … fast ball. ”
“Bring it on, Kent.”
“Only if you aren’t afraid to be beaten, Wayne.”
They glared playfully at each other - they were making eye contact, Jon thought gleefully -when Jon added in a touch of super speed to his throw. Not enough to hurt Damian, Jon wouldn’t ever dare to come close to that, but just enough to make sure he won the round.
Jon pulled back, aimed, dug his heel into the ground, and threw the ball.
PING.
“HOW DID YOU DO THAT?!”
Damian swung the bat around behind his neck, smiley freely now. Albeit he seemed a bit cocky.
Jon sighed heavily and went to get the ball.
“You know,” Jon said later when they were relaxing on the porch watching the sunset, “That was pretty close to professional level skill.”
Damian scoffed. “As if I care about such meaningless accomplishments.” He tried to hide the blush of pride that colored his cheeks.
Jon huffed out a light chuckled and shoved softly at Damian’s shoulder with his own. “I think you’d like it. Really. We should go see a game together some time!”
Damian was quiet for a moment. “That could perhaps be enjoyable…” Jon preened, “But I am unsure of whether my schedule would allow it. I have many responsibilities, Jonathan.”
Jon sighed. “Yeah, same.”
They were silent for a long time, so long that Damian began to grow a touch nervous. “Not that I am adverse to the idea,” he said, “But… someday.”
Jon smiled, and leaned against Damian’s shoulder. “I’ll put it on the To Do list, we can do it when we run away together.”
Damian harrumphed, but didn’t complain.
The Fifth Time
The living room in Wayne Manor was filled with the soft snores of the guests who had come over for Damian’s eighteenth birthday party. The fun and games had long passed, and they were supposed to be asleep.
Jon, however, hadn’t been able to fully rest for about a half hour. He didn’t quite know what was wrong, but all the same he felt like something was off.
He blinked around the room, before closing his eyes and listening. Alfred was asleep in his room, Jon could tell from his heartbeat. Bruce was just getting back from patrol. Around him, the soft thumps of Duke, Harper, Maps, Mara, Suren, and Maya’s hearts were slow and steady. Nothing seemed to be amiss.
Wait… Damian!
Jon quickly scanned the room and then the rest of the Manor, trying to figure out where his best friend had gone. Oh, he was on the roof. That wasn’t good.
Jon wasn’t quite sure what was wrong when he slipped out a window (Bruce had ended up changing the settings on their alarms after Duke had come to stay with them. Something about him jumping out of windows?), knowing that he wouldn’t be caught. He floated up and around, finding Damian sitting on the edge, overlooking the grounds.
“Hey,” he greeted softly, settling down. Damian didn’t even look up.
“You should be asleep.”
“So should you.” Damian scoffed, but didn’t reply, so Jon continued. “Dami, what’s wrong? Why are you out here?”
Damian sighed. “Mother sent me a letter today, I didn’t see it till just now.”
Jon cringed. Oh, that made sense. He’d been hoping to see her today. Jon remembered Damian speaking animatedly about it last month.
“She couldn’t make it?”
Damian shrugged. “She’ll be here next week. Staying for a whole month.”
Jon blinked. “Dami, that’s awesome! That’s what you’ve been dreaming of for years! Why are you so sad?”
“I’m not,” Damian furrowed his brow down at his hands. “I am just… apprehensive. She remarked that she was eager to celebrate all I had achieved in Gotham.”
“Well, you’ve done great work. With the crime rate, and with Duke and Harper.”
“Tt, that is true. But…”
Jon leaned back, staring at the sky. He couldn’t see the stars through the Gotham smog, but he was comforted by just knowing they were there. “You’re just now realising how much responsibility you have?”
Damian fidgeted. “That is … correct.”
Jon wrapped an arm around Damian’s shoulders. “Well, responsibility comes with life. And you’ve been doing a great job of handling it.”
“Thank you Jonathan.”
“You’re welcome Dami. We… should probably be heading down soon.”
“Perhaps,” Damian said and rose to his feet.
Jon followed suit, smiling at Damian. In the moonlight, his eyes took on an ethereal quality. It made Jon feel a bit bubbly inside, with a spark of daringiness. So he blurted out the first words that came to mind.
“Run away with me.”
Damian looked over at him, for once not hiding the longing in his face. “Not yet,” he said, and jumped off the roof.
Plus One
Damian hovered at the doormat in front of the Kent’s apartment (who even put a doormat outside an apartment?), fidgeting with a small dagger he kept with him at all times. For once, he didn’t feel so confident. He didn’t know if this was the right choice.
But then the door swung open, and Jon’s grinning face greeted him, and Damian relaxed just a fraction.
“Hey, Dami.” Jon said, “What’re you do-”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go. I didn’t mean to bother you.” Damian’ words rushed out of him, cutting Jon off.
Jon frowned. “Are you okay?” Damian didn’t answer. “Alright, come in. You’re always welcome here.”
Jon opened the door wider and gestured for Damian to come in. He did, and settled down on the couch.
“I didn’t wake anyone up?”
Jon shook his head. “Mom and Dad are away for the weekend and I was working on my college essay.”
Damian nodded. “Good, that’s good.”
Damian felt the couch dip slightly as Jon sat down beside him, and relaxed a bit more. He couldn’t help it around Jon, the half kryptonian’s presence always calmed Damian.
“Dami?” Jon asked, “what’s wrong?”
Damian shuddered, and went back to fidgeting with the knife, trying to put off the inevitable.
Jon deftly pulled the blade from Damian’s hands and turned the older teen to face him.
“You can tell me, alright?”
Damian bit his lip and looked away. “Father fired me.”
Jon blinked. “What?”
“From being Blackbird,” Damian elaborated, and once the dam broke, he let it all flow out. “He’s been so controlling over the past year, not allowing me to be too independent, never patrolling alone. I found it suffocating. So I tried to tell him. We… had a disagreement on the matter. So… he told me that if I was unable to follow his rules, I was unable to be his partner.”
Jon blew out a breath of air, shocked. “When did this happen?”
Damian bit his lip and looked away. “Three hours ago.”
Jon made a noise of distress, grabbing Damian’s shoulders and pulling him into a hug. Damian melted into the embrace, squeezing Jon just as hard back. It was grounding, affirming. He was with Jon. He was safe.
He finally let the tears fall.
“Shhhhh, it’s alright.”
“But it’s not,” Damian exclaimed, pushing back. “I can’t go back to Father now. He’ll just be more mad at me, and I refuse to bow to his inane rules. And Duke and Harper will be forced to take sides.”
Jon pursed his lips. “Then… what are you going to do?” He was mentally running through the list of Damian’s options. He could of course stay at his family’s home for as long as he needed. But what after that? He could get his own apartment in Gotham. Maybe stay with his mother? Knowing Damian, he might be more inclined to go offworld, volunteering himself for long, out-of-solar-system missions for the League.
Jon was shaken from his thoughts when Damian straightened and lightly cleared his throat. Jon looked at him intently, but patiently. What Damian said next wasn’t even on his mind.
“Run away with me.”
Jon blinked in shock, not quite comprehending Damian’s words.
“I mean it,” he said staring at Jon fervently. “We can pack our bags and just leave everything. We could find our own place, in our own city - Blüdhaven has been on my radar for a while - and make it our own. We can fight crime as much as we want, and go wherever we want, and go to college together, and no one will be able to tell us what to do. We’ll…” He licked his lips nervously. “We’ll be together.”
And that’s when it hit Jon, exactly what Damian was saying. Six years he’d been asking. He’d never quite thought it would happen. It had started off as a joke, after all.
“If you want to, of course,” Damian said, “I know you have been looking for colleges, and you have a life here, so I would understand if-”
Jon grabbed Damian’s hands, stilling them with his own . Damian glanced down at their intertwined fingers before casting his gaze up to Jon’s. They stared at each other for a second. Then Jon smiled.
“Yes,” he said, grinning fully - wider than Damian had ever seen it, “yes, Dami.”
Damian blinked, before nervously smiling back. “Really?”
“Really,” Jon confirmed, his grin softening into a fond smile. “I’m eighteen now, you know, mom and dad can’t tell me what to do.”
Damian blinked slowly before chuckling. “Yes, that is true.”
Jon pulled Damian back into a quick hug. “I have my savings account, we’ll get an apartment together for a bit. Then college.”
Damian nodded. “Pennyworth would possibly be willing to grant me access to my own funds. And we’d have to take Alfred and Titus, of course.”
“Pet friendly apartment,” Jon nodded, “I’ll add it to the list.”
Damian smiled, and Jon felt himself melt.
“So…” he said, leaning into Damian, “Blüdhaven?”
Damian shrugged, “It just feels right.”
Jon sighed contentedly. “Yeah, yeah it does.”