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“Are we there yet?”
“No.”
Five seconds later: “Are we there yet?”
“No.”
“What about now?”
“For the last time, Dick, we get there when we get there!”
“Tt, you are such a child, Grayson.”
“Damian, no insulting your siblings until we find a rest stop.”
The van, packed like sardines, rumbled along the dusty single-lane highway. There was nothing to see but sand and tumbleweeds for miles on end. The only other car on the road was another (more spacious) blue van driven by the Kent family.
Damian didn’t see the need for a joint family road trip. Bats and Supers already worked frequent missions together, plus they had the holidays, summer barbecues, Sunday brunches, shared Pride parade floats, and even Netflix accounts. The two families were so attached at the hip that Damian couldn’t recall a time where a member from one wasn’t accompanied by a member of the other. It’s as though they’d spontaneously combust if they spent over twenty-four hours apart. Mother and Grandfather would never approve of such inappropriate closeness.
That said, Mother and Grandfather aren’t here and Damian misses Jon like the desert they’re driving through misses the river. He unfolded the map where an information center employee had marked each rest stop, not particularly caring about keeping his elbow out of Tim’s face. The sooner they stop, the sooner he can see his beloved.
Tim yanked out his headphones. “B, Damian’s in my personal bubble again!”
“Quit whining, there is no personal bubble here,” Jason said, laying across the aisle.
Bruce glared in the rearview mirror. “Jason Peter Todd, you get back in your seat and buckle your seat belt right this instant!”
“But—”
“Listen to your father, Jason,” Selina said. “Damian, sweetheart, can you pass me the map? The GPS isn’t getting any signal.”
Dick gestured to Duke. “What do you mean? We got a Signal right here.”
Everyone groaned. Damian handed the map over, but not without knocking Stephanie’s sunglasses askew and nearly giving Cass a paper cut in the eye. When he pulled his arm back, his elbow collided with Tim’s ribs.
“I call the middle seat next time,” Tim said.
“I call trunk,” said Jason.
“No trunks,” Selina said. She pointed to the right. “There should be an exit in two miles.”
A chorus of exhausted yeses and “thank God” ensued.
“They have a store and tables too,” she said. “We can eat something since it’s almost lunch. I’ll let Lois know.”
The food on the trip was an issue because Alfred opted to stay at home (Damian didn’t blame him). He’d already eaten more chips and sandwiches in the past twenty-four hours than he had in the past six months. Jon seemed to enjoy it, judging by the salty taste on his lips each time they sneaked a kiss.
That was the other issue. Damian and Jon had been dating for nearly four months, but they neither knew when nor how to tell their families, and how their families would react given how young they were—they were in middle school, yet they’ve been on almost as many dates as Tim and Conner.
Until they work out a resolution, they agreed to keep it under wraps.
Bruce pulled into a rest stop, which included a gas station, a store, and several wooden picnic tables on the overgrown yellow lawn. Across the street was a Mormon church standing beside a combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell. A peeling billboard with “JESUS DIED FOR YOUR SINS” in bold red letters, and it was duct-taped to a banner advertising a Salt Lake City gun shop.
The siblings toppled over each other getting out of the van. Damian stumbled over Dick’s stray foot. He would’ve hit the ground had it not been for a pair of slender arms wrapping around his torso.
“Careful, D.”
“Tt, they need to repair the infrastructure. It is impossible to find one’s footing with so many potholes.”
(It wasn’t. Damian just needed an excuse to linger a few seconds longer.)
“My mom needs to buy something, but she gave us money for pizza.” Voice lowered, Jon added, “We can get a table away from our folks.”
“Pizza it is,” Damian said.
They flew across the street. As it appeared, they weren’t the first to think about pizza. Most of Damian’s siblings plus Bruce and Clark had already grabbed tables. Damian and Jon slid into an empty two-person booth.
As Cass walked by, she signed, “We already ordered a vegetarian one for you.”
“Thank you,” Damian said. “Excuse me, I must use the restroom.”
“Oh, yeah, I should probably wash my hands too,” Jon said.
They should’ve done a headcount from the start. Either way, neither of them could have expected walking in on such a horrific scene.
There Tim was, pinned against the wall, t-shirt riding up. His neck was connected to Kon’s tongue and one leg wrapped was around Kon’s hip. Hands roamed haphazardly like a badly filmed romance. Kon's leather jacket hung from the top of a stall door. And the noises were outright awful. Damian needed to bleach his eyes and ears after this trip is over.
He opened his mouth to say something, but Jon beat him to it.
“DAD, MR. WAYNE, TIM AND KON ARE BEING GROSS AGAIN!”
Twenty-seven seconds later, Clark plopped a disgruntled Kon in one of the dining room chairs while Bruce made an equally disgruntled Tim sit as far away as possible. Right as Tim sat down, the other siblings launched their arsenal of jokes. As a sibling, Damian was legally obligated to join in.
After filling themselves and the gas tanks, they were on the road once again. Tim had followed through on his seat change, taking up the spacious middle with Duke and Cass and leaving Damian crammed in the back with Dick and Steph.
Amidst the GPS, the radio, and the four different conversations floating around, Damian almost missed his phone going off.
He stifled a laugh at Jon’s video of Kon getting lectured. Just as he was typing a reply, Dick peered over his shoulder.
“Who are you texting?” Dick asked.
“Nobody.”
“I see a heart by the name. Aw, does wittle baby Dami have a cwush?”
“I will obliterate you, Grayson. It is simply my mother.” Damian maneuvered his body so the back of his head pressed against the window and his legs draped over Dick and Steph’s laps, much to their protests.
“Guys, tell Damian to get his shoes off me!” Steph whined.
“Damian, get your shoes off her,” Selina said.
“Very well.” Damian unlaced his shoes and threw them in the trunk.
“ Ow! ”
Selina whipped her head around. “Who was that?” She did a quick headcount, pausing abruptly. “Where’s Jason?!”
“Trunk,” said Tim.
“Jason, get back here or so help me I will turn this car around!” Bruce said.
Jason scoffed. “What are you, my dad?”
“That is exactly what I am, and I am not afraid to ground a twenty-two-year-old. Get back over here!”
The next thirty seconds was a physical fitness challenge as they hoisting Jason over the headrests. Damian drew his knees in as Jason slithered over the seats, kicked Steph in the face, and faceplanted onto the rubber mat. He surrendered himself to laying across the floor with the crumbs and gravel, and Bruce didn’t argue with that.
“Seriously, Lil’ Wing, ever heard of a belt?” Dick asked. “You look like a Florida kid about to rob a Dairy Queen.”
“Is that any way to speak to someone who died?”
There was a collective groan.
Jason rolled his eyes. “At least my feet don’t stink, Damian.”
“Tt, we are driving through America’s perspiring armpit, what do you expect?”
“Shoes. Ever heard of ‘em, demon brat?”
Damian plugged in his headphones. “What did you say? It’s hard to hear you over me not giving a—”
“Language,” said Dick.
Selina turned to Bruce. “This is what happens when you get hooked on adopting.”
Damian raised the volume and hit the call button. It didn’t even finish ringing once before Jon answered.
“Hey, Dami. Nice timing. Mom and Dad just finished with Kon.”
“Tell me more.”
The back of Damian’s head hurt from the vibrating window. He had one leg over Dick and Steph’s laps while the other hung off the seat, playing footsie with Jason.
“—and then Mom said if Kon pulled something like that again, he’ll have to do everyone’s chores for a week without powers. I hope he does it again, I don’t wanna do dishes. What about you? What’d they say about Tim?”
“Kyle lectured him on proper conduct in public,” Damian said. “Other than that, not much, since Todd and Harper have done far worse.”
Cass yawned and accidentally punched Duke in the face. Duke yelped, startling Steph into kicking Jason, who slapped Dick because he thought it was him. All that happened while Tim bugged Bruce to change the radio station with Selina shouting for everyone to settle down.
“That’s a pretty big racket. Is everything okay there?” Jon asked.
“I’m talking to you,” Damian said, “so yes.”
There were three types of people: those excited about the hotel, those excited about the national park, and those excited about a “museum” of life-size dinosaur statues along a circular walking path.
Jon fell in the last category.
There was a fork in the road at the entrance. Bruce and Duke went left and Damian and Jon went right. The arid desert clashed with the place’s tropical theme. Damian didn’t find anything particularly impressive about the fake plants or poorly crafted statues painted unnatural colors, but it may as well be Disneyland for Jon.
As soon as their families were out of sight, Jon took Damian’s hand. “Did you know most dinosaurs mate for life?”
Damian playfully scoffed. “You say ‘mate’ as though they are still alive.”
“You know what I mean, babe.”
Jon rubbed his nose against Damian’s. Damian smiles softly and moved in for a kiss.
Somebody yelled. They jumped apart.
Duke sprinted down the cobbled path, fully decked out in dinosaur merch. “Check it out, they got those excavation kits in the gift shop. Bruce is already getting, like, five. You guys want one?”
Jon’s eyes lit up. “Heck yeah! Come on, Dami. I wanna get one of the surprise eggs too.”
Damian said, “You go ahead, habibi. I’ll catch up.”
He stopped as soon as the words left his mouth.
Duke asked, “What does ‘habibi’ mean?”
“Friend,” Damian said. “It means best friends in Urdu.”
“I thought you spoke Arabic,” Duke said.
“There is a lot you do not know about me, Thomas.”
The gift shop was something out of Jon’s dreams and Damian’s nightmares. Shelves upon ceiling-high shelves were stacked with desert snow globes, plush stegosauruses, water bottles, books, and science kits for ages five to seven. The t-shirt racks held designs hailing from the 1990s with corny dinosaur puns only Dick would laugh at. A DVD case held a hundred copies of a knockoff Ukrainian Jurassic Park. The most modern thing in the musty gift shop was the box of fidget spinners.
Jon had made himself content by plunging his hands in the tub of colorful rocks. Bruce, meanwhile, was busy with his pyramid of boxes at the cash register. Damian grabbed a fidget spinner for his boyfriend and a dinosaur encyclopedia for himself.
“Damian!” Bruce said. “Did you have fun?”
Damian jabbed a thumb in Jon’s direction. “I only followed him.”
“Well, you’re a great partner.”
Damian froze.
“Just like how Clark’s a great partner for letting me store our suitcases in his car.”
He sighed, relieved.
“Right, yes,” Damian said, “since Todd insists on occupying the trunk.”
After Duke piled an entire wardrobe of t-shirts and sweatshirts onto the counter, they paid and Bruce instructed them to freshen up at the hotel and get dressed for their dinner reservation. Damian lingered behind and waited for Jon, who had trouble deciding which rocks to put in the “pick ten” bag.
He handed Jon an orange fidget spinner with a cartoon velociraptor. “For you, my beloved.”
“Aww,” Jon cooed. He handed Damian a coin-sized green rock shaped like a McDonald’s breakfast biscuit. “This one reminded me of you.”
At the hotel, they were divided into four rooms. Clark, Kon, Jon were in one. Dick, Jason, and Duke were in another. The ladies got the third. And Damian was stuck with Bruce and Tim. There were only two beds for the three of them, so Damian made a statement of dumping his father and brother’s things onto one bed and rolling himself in a blanket burrito on the other.
“Move over, demon brat,” Tim said.
“No. You are sharing a bed with Father.”
“Bruce!”
Damian scoffed. “Why must the three of us cohabitate? Why can’t Drake join Todd, Grayson, and Thomas and Father join his wife?”
Bruce poked his head out of the bathroom. “Because you’re a baby and Tim’s proven himself too irresponsible to be left alone.”
“I am not a baby!”
Bruce said, “Just get ready for dinner, both of you. And wear something nice. Tim, none of those tuxedo t-shirts.”
Damian got dressed quickly and stepped into the hallway. At the same time, Jon stepped out of the door across, his tie hanging around his neck like a scarf, the top button of his shirt undone, and his collar flipped inside out.
“I was gonna ask my mom for help,” Jon said.
Damian tutted affectionately. He fixed the collar, buttoned the button, and was in the middle of tying Jon’s tie with a blush on his cheeks when Cass exited her room.
“Where can I find extra shampoo?” she signed. “Steph used it all up in one shower.”
“Front desk,” Damian said.
“Thanks.” She paused. “Jon, your cuffs are missing a button.”
“Aw man,” Jon lamented. “It must’ve fallen out in my bag. I’ll be right back.”
With nothing else to do, Damian accompanied Cass to grab the fistfuls of tiny bottles. Neither of them said anything. Damian focused on the lobby’s flowery decor, hoping to all deities that she doesn’t bring up what she saw between him and Jon.
She signed, “What is happening between—”
“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing is happening between me and Jon.”
Cass tilted her head. “I meant between dinner and bedtime since we are eating early.”
Heat rose to the tip of his ears. “Oh. Unstructured leisure time, I suppose.”
They passed the pool on the way up.
Speaking of unstructured leisure time…
After dinner, the groups retired to their room. Dick, Jason, and Duke had started a game of Cards Against Humanity while the ladies had a pillow fight so loud they got a noise complaint. The rest wanted to watch a movie, so Bruce and Clark sat between Tim and Kon on the couch while Damian and Jon had the floor by the door. By eleven-thirty, the other four had fallen asleep during the Fast and Furious sequel. Damian and Jon looked at each other and nodded.
This was a stealth mission like no other. On regular stealth missions, they had disabling weaponry and costumes concealing their identities. Here, it was just their brains and luck.
Damian waved his hand in front of his father’s face. Sure enough, the man was out like a light. He soundlessly unlatched the door and opened it the barest crack.
Once they were outside, he closed it with bated breath. It was a near-silent move. He motioned for Jon to be quiet, gesturing to the other doors with sound coming from behind them. Then, they slipped into the Kents’ room.
He was already wearing his swim trunks underneath his pants. While Jon dug through his luggage, Damian said, “We should tell them soon.”
Jon bit his lip. “I know. It doesn’t feel like the right moment, though.”
Damian placed his hand on top of Jon’s. “We are the Super Sons. Whatever happens, we will make it work— our way.”
Jon nodded and laced his fingers with Damian’s.
As soon as they stepped into the elevator, Jon broke down giggling.
“What’s so funny?” Damian asked.
“Nothing, nothing, it just—” Another wave of giggles bubbled through. “It’s just… don’t we look a lot like Tim and Kon right now?”
Damian’s eyes widened. “No. No no no, do not compare me to Drake!”
“Think about it,” Jon said. “We’re sneaking off exactly like they did.”
“I am nothing like that idiot.”
“You sure? You’re brothers. You gotta inherit something.”
“You’re lucky you are cute, otherwise I would have incinerated you with a Kryptonite blowtorch.”
Damian dropped his towel and phone on one of the several white lawn chairs standing in a row. Fluorescent rods flickered against the cavernous steel warehouse ceiling, finding their reflection in the perfectly still cerulean mirror. His flip-flops echoed when he dropped them beside the chair. The smell of chlorine mingled with lingering paint fumes, and the concrete felt both smooth and rough under his toes.
An involuntary shiver ran up his spine when he lowered himself in. Sucking in a breath, he got the rest of his body acquainted with the temperature.
When he surfaced, Jon was kneeling at the edge. Their faces were only inches apart.
“This reminds me of those mermaid movie scenes,” Jon said.
“Not quite.”
Damian yanked Jon in.
They tumbled together. Damian found his bearings around Jon’s torso, and Jon found his around Damian’s.
And they were flying. Flying in the purest form possible. There were no city lights to distract them, nor the acrid smell of destruction looping them into another battle. It’s him and Jon and the currents swirling in a column around them as they spun freely.
Damian’s heel brushed the edge, and he broke through, gasping for air. Jon followed, resting his shin on Damian’s shoulder. Pushing the wet locks out of Jon’s forehead, Damian leaned in.
A door opening forced them apart. Damian whipped his head right as Steph dropped her bag on another chair, snapped on her Aquaman goggles, and came running through.
“CANNONBALL!”
A tidal wave crashed over the boys. When she emerged, her hair covered her entire face like some sort of deep-sea cryptid. She shook herself off like a golden retriever.
“Late night swimming was a great idea, Damian!” she exclaimed.
His lip curled. “How did you—”
“I was heading to the front desk when I saw you,” she said, “so I went back and got the others.”
“Others?”
“Well, not everyone. Cass wanted to take a bubble bath in the dark and the guys are busy. So it’s just us and our moms.”
Never did Damian want to punch somebody so badly. He clenched and unclenched his fist, exhaling. “Very well.”
Just then, their mothers entered.
As they did, Lois read the sign bolted to the wall before turning to the boys. She placed her hands on her hips. “You’re not supposed to be swimming without an adult if you’re under thirteen.”
“But Mom—”
“Rules are rules,” she said. “It’s a good thing we’re here now.”
Selina settled in her chair with her electric green margarita, fruit salad bowl, and fashion magazine. Despite there being no sun, she wore a floppy straw hat and rhinestone-encrusted cat-eye sunglasses. Lois opted for the jacuzzi.
“Keep doing what you were doing,” Selina said. “Pretend we’re not here.”
Steph popped up behind Damian. “Wanna play Marco Polo?”
“Tt, fine.”
The boys stuck around for a few games before they wore on Damian’s nerves. Feigning tiredness, he dried himself off and together with Jon, made their way through the lobby.
Jon gestured to the hotel store. “Wanna grab something? Swimming always makes me hungry.”
As they browsed the shelves, Jon tapped Damian’s shoulder. Damian turned around.
Jon’s lips were on Damian’s. They tasted like chlorine mixed with sea salt from the pretzels they hadn’t yet paid for. Damian tiptoed, his hand resting at the nape of Jon’s neck. Jon leaned in, smiling.
They pulled apart.
Jon said. “I know you’ve been waiting all day for that.”
Damian chuckled softly. “It was worth it.”
When he turned back, Jason was standing at the entrance, jaw slack.
Damian’s eyes widened. “Todd, don’t you dare—”
Jason took off.
Damian exclaimed, “Get him!”
Jon zoomed after, and Damian didn’t even care that he wasn’t in costume.
Jason entered the elevator, pressing the buttons furiously. Jon slipped through the closing door, ramming Jason in the chest.
Damian took a detour up the stairs. His footsteps thundered up the four flights. Of all people, he never anticipated Jason finding out. They had to stop him.
He skidded in front of the elevator doors right as they opened. Jon had latched onto Jason’s back, tugging at the white streak. As much as Jason struggled, he couldn’t shake Jon off as he stumbled out of the elevator.
Damian lunged. He grappled the back of Jason’s knees.
Something popped.
Jason tumbled to the ground with an ear-splitting scream.
All the doors opened—even Cass was there in her bathrobe. Most members looked on with some degree of shock or confusion.
Bruce’s face reddened. “What is going on here?!?”
Everyone answered at once.
“We finished swimming and—”
“—Dick sent me downstairs—”
“—and then Todd—”
“—so we followed him—”
“DAMIAN AND JON KISSED!”
That stunned the entire hallway into silence. Damian pulled Jon up; their hands remained connected.
“Boys,” Clark said evenly, “Is this true?”
The two exchanged glances.
“Yes.”
Dick’s hand flew to his mouth. Kon stifled a laugh. Tim and Duke let out a low “ooh” and “oh damn”, respectively.
“How long?” Bruce asked.
“Four months next week,” Damian said. “We were not sure how to tell you.”
“Are you mad at us?” Jon asked. “For not telling you?”
Bruce’s expression softened. He kneeled to their level. “We’re not mad at you for having your secrets since it didn’t hurt anybody.”
Clark nodded. “We just hope you know you can be open about anything here. We’re all family.”
“That said,” Bruce continued, “once we go home, you are both grounded for hurting Jason.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Damian said.
Bruce ruffles both of their hairs. “I’m glad you guys have each other. Now, it’s been quite a day. I think it’s time for bed.”
Everyone retreated to their rooms; Tim and Kon mumbled something about “youngest sibling privileges”. The air cleared noticeably with no more secrets hanging over their heads. Jon wrapped his arms around Damian.
“It’s not what we planned,” Jon said, scratching the back of his neck. “Mainly ‘cause we didn’t have a plan. But hey, we made it work, didn't we?”
Damian smiled and squeezed back. “We did, my beloved." He pressed his lips to Jon's. "We always make it work.”