Archive of Our Own ^beta

Damian took a deep breath, watching his hands shake. He could do this. It wasn’t hard. Timothy had done it, and if Timothy of all people could go through all this, then surely he should be able to as well.

If Timothy had been able to approach Bruce to get the assistance he needed to transition and be comfortable in his body, then so could Damian.

He wasn’t a coward.

Damian had been a lot of people in his life. Ibn al-Xuffasch. Daminos. Damian Al Ghul. Robin. Damian Wayne. But he never felt like any of those people, none of those names assigned to him felt like him. He didn’t even think he was a him anymore.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? For years he’d always felt wrong in his own body. At first, he thought it was because he was always considered to be small, so he compensated, worked harder to be stronger, and grow more muscles, but even as he grew up, and got taller and stronger, that never felt right either.

Then he thought maybe it was all his scars, so when he could, he wore make-up and covered his skin so no one, not even he could see them. But that didn’t fix it. Eventually, he stopped trying, assuming everyone felt wrong in their bodies.

When he came to Wayne Manor, and became Damian Wayne, and Damian Wayne met Timothy Drake, a transgender boy, he learned that maybe… maybe not everyone felt wrong in their bodies. That maybe something was wrong. Except he thought there must be something wrong with him. It took him almost years of watching Drake, of doing his own research, of observing people in Gotham and celebrities to realize, no, there was nothing wrong with him. Lots of people felt this way. 

The guilt that came next nearly overtook his life. He was Bruce’s only blood son. He was the only heir, the only progeny to the Wayne bloodline. To the Al Ghul bloodline. He had a duty and a responsibility to carry on those bloodlines, that’s what he had been told his whole life. But the more he tried to drill that thought into his own head, the worse it felt. The worse he felt.

He started experimenting subtly at first. He stopped getting his hair cut, letting it grow out. Started wearing more makeup to galas and outings. He didn’t go so far as to wear feminine clothing, but he certainly started dressing more ambiguously.

He had barely turned fifteen when he broke down in front of Dick, frustrated and upset with his own body and overwhelmed by everything. Dick had, of course, just swept him up in a hug, promised him it was okay, and asked how he could help. Damian hadn’t known how to answer at the time, just made him promise not to tell anyone, and tried to pretend it hadn’t happened.

He couldn’t ignore it any longer.

He lifted a hand, and knocked on the door he had been hovering outside of.

“Come in!” he heard Bruce chirp back.

He reached for the doorknob, watching his hand shake, and stepped in.

“Father,” he said softly, voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, hello Damian,” Bruce hummed, looking up from his computer to smile at Damian. “What can I do for you?”

“May I speak with you?” Damian tried to keep his voice even but knew he failed from how Bruce’s eyebrows scrunched together, and he immediately stood.

Bruce walked around the desk, sitting on the sofa next to a bookshelf, and gestured for Damian to sit as well. He slowly walked over, sitting on the very edge of the sofa.

“What’s wrong, Damian?” Bruce asked softly, frowning, face screaming worried.

Damian looked down at his hands, taking a few shaky breaths, mentally going over the script Dick and Tim had suggested. After a few long minutes of silence, Bruce reached over, brushing Damian’s chin-length hair out of his face, then resting his hand on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong, lad?” Bruce asked again, his voice quiet, like he was trying not to spook Damian.

“I’m not,” Damian blurted out suddenly.

Bruce blinked at him, confused. “You’re not?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck he had done it.

“I’m… not,” Damian repeated, squeezing his fists tight, and looking away again. “I don’t think I’m a… a lad.”

Bruce was quiet for a minute. Damian swore his heart was going to pound right out of his- her chest. He didn’t know. Was he a she? This was all so confusing and difficult and he wished he didn’t have to deal with any of it.

“Damian?” Bruce said softly, squeezing his shoulder a little. “What are you telling me? I want to make sure I understand.”

He couldn’t look, couldn’t see Bruce’s disappointed face.

“I… have never felt right… like this. I’ve always felt like something was wrong with me, with my body and it wasn’t until I met Tim that I… found out what it might be and… I think I’m trans,” the last part barely escaped him, forced out by something unknown, something he didn’t really control.

He still wasn’t looking at Bruce, couldn’t bare to. He heard a shifting beside him, and then big strong arms were wrapping around him, pulling him into a tight hug. 

“Whether you’re a boy, a girl, or neither, you’re still my child, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you feel comfortable, okay?” Bruce whispered, tucking Damian’s head under his chin.

Damian tensed up for a moment, then let everything out in a soft sigh, clutching onto Bruce. Before she knew it, she was crying, wrapped up tight in her father's arms.

Martha Kent had never gotten along with the girls in her class. The kids at her elementary school were okay, no one cared what you looked like, talked like, where you lived. They were all farm kids, all had more important stuff to do.

But when the Kents moved into Metropolis and Martha started middle school, all that quickly changed. Girls in the city were all about fashion and boys and fitting in and adhering to a strict set of rules. 

Martha didn't understand it. Why should she care what she wore or how she talked or who she hung out with? But the girls at school sure cared, calling her all kinds of names because she wore ratty t-shirts and old work jeans, making fun of her for hanging out with boys instead of trying to fit in with the girls. 

She never understood why she didn't fit in, just accepted that she didn't, and hung out with the boys that would accept her.

Martha was twelve when she got her first period and got slammed with a wave of wrong bad awful I feel gross . It wasn't until months later that she learn this was dysphoria. Lois had told her that puberty makes a lot of girls feel weird in their bodies and she'd grow out of it.

The summer Martha turned thirteen she realized she wasn't a girl. The realization hit her while she trying on swimsuits, and she'd broken down sobbing in the changing room with Lois outside, knocking on the door.

She sat her parents down a few nights later, feeling like her heart was going to crawl out of her chest and up her stomach.

"I… don't think I'm a girl," she said softly, staring down at her hands. 

There was a long pause following those words, interrupted only by the air conditioner kicking on. 

"What… what do you mean, sweetheart?" Clark asked softly, scooting a little closer in his armchair, tilting his head. 

Martha took a shaky breath in, and still didn't look up at him. 

"I think- I- I'm-" she stumbled out, watching her hands shake. "I think I'm a boy."

There was that pause again, and then Lois was standing, walking over and sitting next to her on the sofa, wrapping her up in a hug. 

"Is this what the swimsuits incident was about?" Lois asked, and Martha could only nod in response. "Oh darling, thank you for telling us."

"I just- I don't feel right and I don't know but- my body just feels wrong and not in like the I'm getting my powers way, but in a constant, always there, makes me want to throw up way," Martha tried to explain. "I don't know what I am, I just don't think it's a girl."

Lois squeezed her tight, kissing her head. 

"What can we do to help, kiddo?" Clark asked softly, reaching out to put a hand on Martha's knee.

"Do you want us to use different pronouns and terms, see if those are better?" Lois suggested. 

Martha nodded again, quickly, sniffing and reaching up to rub her eyes. 

"Alright then, bud, we can do that."

"And if something changes, one way or the other, and we need to change our vocabulary, you let us know, okay?"

"I will," Martha promised.

"We love you, honey," Lois hummed, smiling.

"Love you too, mom," he whispered back, letting out a soft sigh. 

Things were going to be okay.

Rosalind adjusted her hood one more time, making sure it covered her hair fully. Sure, she’d been growing it out for a while now, but she and Stephanie had gone and gotten their hair properly done and Bruce had let her get extensions while her hair grew out some more, so it was significantly longer. She had braided it back to keep it protected while she was out as Robin, but still didn’t want Martha seeing it until she was ready.

She tapped her heels against the wall of the roof she was waiting on, waiting for Martha to show up. They'd both been so busy the past year, barely talking over texts, barely even seeing each other as Superkid and Robin, and Rosalind had taken the summer, when she'd be away from her peers at school to work on how she presented, and that had caused her to avoid Martha even more. 

But now, school was starting in less than a week, and Rosalind intended to come out publicly before that. She just wanted to tell Martha first. 

There was a soft thump and Rosalind look over, seeing Superkid land on the roof. She grinned, practically skipping over. 

"Rob!" She threw her arms around Rosalind's shoulders, hugging her from behind. "Gosh it feels like it's been forever since I've seen you!"

"It has been a while," Rosalind hummed, not realizing she had unconsciously pitched her voice a little deeper to mimic how she used to talk.

Martha sat down beside her, bumping their shoulders together. 

"So how have you been, Dames?" Martha asked, kicking her feet a little.

Rosalind cringed a little at the name, but didn't correct her yet. 

"I've been… alright. Life has been busy at the manor."

"Yeah shoot I heard about Riddler causing issues, everything okay here?"

Rosalind nodded. "We handled it. He's usually not that bad, we just have to play his little games and make sure he gets back on his medication."

Martha nodded, smiling over at her. 

"So, getting ready for school?" Martha asked, looking back down at the street below them. 

"I need to tell you something," Rosalind said instead of answering her question. 

"Oh? Okay, what's up?"

Rosalind looked down at the street as well, taking a slow breath. 

"I'm… I don't go by Damian anymore."

"Oh… okay, what do you- what name then?" 

Rosalind took in another breath, holding it for a moment as she reached up, pushing down just her hood. 

"Rosalind."

Martha looked at her for a long moment, seeming politely confused, then it seemed to click, her eyes going wide. 

"Oh!" She said, voice pitching up- had her voice been lower? 

Rosalind watched her jump up, float a few feet away, and kind of shake her hands a little, grinning. 

"Are you- are you trans?" She asked, seeming to bounce a little. 

"I… yes, I am.”

Rosalind sat a little straighter, and held her a chin a little higher. Martha let out a light laugh and floated closer, grabbing Rosalind's gloved hands. 

"Dam- Rosalind! So am I!"

What.

What? Rosalind thought. 

"What?" She said outloud. 

Martha's face dropped a little, and she took a breath, letting go of Rosalind's hands. Then she held out her right. 

"Jonathan Samuel Kent, it's nice to meet you, Rosalind."

Oh .

Rosalind hesitated, then shook Jonathan's hand. 

"Rosalind Wayne. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Jonathan grinned, sitting beside her again.

"So uh… I've been using he him pronouns. Are you… she her?"

Rosalind nodded, looking down at their feet. It felt like weight had been lifted off of her, she felt lighter and happier. She felt like everything would be okay now, all because Jon had accepted her.

"Who woulda thought…" Jon said with a chuckle, shaking his head. 

Rosalind looked back up at him, and noticed for the first time changes she'd been too distracted to notice earlier. Jon's hair was cut much shorter, more of an undercut than the shaggy bob it used to be, and his uniform was different too, more straight cut. 

"Wouldn't it be easy if we could just… swap bodies," Jon joked, looking over at him and grinning. 

"If only."

Jon laughed, slinging an arm around Rosalind's shoulders and pulling her into a side hug. 

"If only life was that easy."

Jon bounced a little, watching the front door like he wouldn't hear the elevator long before it opened. 

"Jon, you keep bouncing like that and you're gonna put a hole in the floor," Lois hummed, looking over at him, clearly amused.

"Sorry mom I'm just excited!"

"I know sweetheart, now will you come sit down, she's a Wayne, she's gonna be like fifteen minutes late."

Jon sighed, casting one more forlorn look at the front door of their apartment before going to sit down with Lois. She set aside her laptop, looking at him.

Jon's sixteenth birthday had been this weekend. They'd had a little birthday party with his friends from school, but this week, he and Rosalind were going to Kansas for the whole week to just hang out and enjoy the farm and get away from their hectic lives, and Jon felt like he was going to explode. 

He was sixteen now, Rosalind was eighteen, going to go to university, and turn nineteen in the fall. So this was almost like their "going out with a bang". Sure Jon could go visit Rosalind whenever she wanted, except she was going to University in Oxford , so it wasn't as easy as just flying up to Gotham for the night. Jon was bummed about how far away she was moving, but it was clear how excited she was, so he'd never say that to her face. 

"Now, you remember what we talked about?" Lois asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah yeah, I know mom," Jon sighed, waving a hand at her. 

"Jon, I'm serious. I know you've had a crush on Rosalind for years-"

"I have not!" Jon protested.

"-but," Lois continued smoothly. "Just… remember she's going to Oxford, and having a long-distance friendship is going to be hard enough, let alone anything more.”

"I know ," Jon whined, slumping in his seat. 

Lois gave him a sad little smile, squeezing his shoulder. 

"Now, be smart, don't do anything Bruce would do, mind your p's and q's, and listen to your grandparents, okay?"

"We willlll."

Both of them looked up as there was a knock on the door. Jon grinned and shot up, sprinting over. He yanked open the door. 

"Ro!"

Sure enough, outside the door was Rosalind, she blinked, then looked up at him.

"You grew."

Jon laughed softly, grabbing her wrist and pulling her inside. 

"Yeah well that apparently happens, it's not like you're short either!" 

Rosalind really wasn't. She seemed to have topped out at 5'10", but whether that was due to genetics, or due to hormone therapy, one couldn't be sure. Jon hadn't quite out grown her, but he was sure he would, considering his Kryptonian genetics, and Aunt Kara was pretty tall too. 

"Hey, Rosalind!" Lois called from the living room. 

"Hello Ms. Lane," Rosalind called back, smiling.

Jon started pulling on his shoes, watching Rosalind as she walked over to the doorway to the living room, chatting idly with Lois. 

Rosalind really had changed in the last three years, from her voice to her body, everything was just… different. Not in a bad way! She was absolutely stunning, and her voice sounded dang near musical. Rosalind had always been able to pitch her voice in different ways, a dang parrot of a human - Jon had heard her mimic Bruce once, it was creepy - but this soft, smooth tone had become her normal speaking voice and Jon was constantly trying to get her to talk more just to hear it.

Her hair was pulled back, covered by a scarf veil. She'd started wearing veils and hijabs more as she got older, and it'd been quite a while since Jon had seen her hair uncovered, but he didn't pry or ask to see it, because that was none of his business. 

He pulled on his shoes, turned and grabbed his duffel bag, and then turned back to Rosalind.

"Ready to go?" He asked, grinning. She nodded, adjusting her backpack straps. 

"You sure you know where you're going?" Lois asked, standing and walking towards the balcony door.

"Yeah mom, I've only been flying to the farm for years ."

"You also got lost on the way to New York last year," Rosalind added, raising an eyebrow.

"Rude!" Jon gasped in mock offense. 

They huddled out onto the Kent's small balcony. Jon put his duffel bag on, and shifted it so it was in front of him. 

"Okay okay, just be safe, and call if you need anything, alright?" Lois said, stepping forwards to hug him and kiss his cheek, squeezing Rosalind's shoulder.

"We will, Ms. Lane," Rosalind promised, smiling softly. 

Jon nodded in agreement, crouching and letting Rosalind hop on his back piggyback style. They said a few more goodbye's and then Jon hooked his arms under Rosalind's knees and took off, heading towards Kansas. 

The Kent's greeted them with open arms, cooing over them both, and getting them settled in the guest rooms all in time for evening chores. Pa insisted they didn't have to help, but both just pulled on their boots and headed out to the barn. 

They stayed up late that night, watching the cows in the fields and the stars in the sky, sitting shoulder to shoulder. 

"Hey, Ro?"

"Hm?" She looked over at him, tilting her head. 

"I'm gonna miss you."

Rosalind snorted softly, looking back up at the sky. 

"I'm not dying, Kent," she hummed lightly. "You can come to visit. And I'll come back to Gotham occasionally."

"Yeah yeah I know, I just…" he shrugged. "You're still my best friend, and it's gonna be weird for you to be a whole ocean away instead of just the bay."

"We'll be okay," Rosalind murmured, dropping her head onto his shoulder.

He smiled lightly, resting his head against hers, enjoying this moment while they had it.

That week was full of farm chores and campfires, playing in the creek and running around Smallville causing a ruckus, and for the first time in a while, Jon felt like a kid again. He kept catching himself staring over at Rosalind with this stupid little grin, and he knew Lois was right, he had a crush, but he also knew he wasn’t going to ruin this perfect week with his stupid feelings 

Rosalind took a shaky breath, looking at herself in the mirror.

"You look gorgeous, Rose," Bruce hummed, stepping up behind her and lightly fussing with her hair. She smiled softly at him in their reflections. 

"Thank you, baba."

"Of course, sweetheart.*

Bruce turned to walk away, and Rosalind turned to him quickly. 

"Baba?"

"Hm?"

She took a little breath, then gestured up at her reflection.

"Do you think- is this dress alright? Not too… much?"

Bruce smiled and stepped back over, putting a hand on her back. 

"Rose, are you comfortable?"

"Yes."

"And do you like how you look?"

Rosalind turned back to her reflection again, nodding a little. Bruce smiled. 

"Then no. I think your dress is perfect. And trust me, I've seen women old enough to be my grandmother wearing far more revealing things, if that's what you're worried about."

Rosalind snorted softly, smiling at Bruce. 

"Thank you baba."

Tonight was the first charity gala she would have attended in two years. She left two years ago for Oxford, and hadn't been able to make it back the first summer, busy doing summer classes and traveling around Europe, so other than Christmas break, this was the first time she'd been back in Gotham for more than a week. 

She wasn't nervous, per se, but she was a little jittery, after all, it'd been a while since she'd been so directly in public judgment. 

It also didn't help that Bruce had invited the Kents, and had informed Rose that Jon would be coming. Jon, the boy who had been her best friend for years, who she hadn't seen for two years, and had been awful at communicating with during those two years. 

He was probably grown up and had a girlfriend by now. She didn't want to examine the feelings that thought gave her. 

She just sighed to herself and turned, sitting on the bed to slip on her heels, and fixed her makeup one more time before following Bruce out to the car. 

In the eight years since she'd started transitioning, life had changed drastically for her. High school had been nothing short of living hell, her peers constantly calling her slurs, using her deadname and wrong pronouns. University had been better, the other students almost looked up to her, and professors were either supportive or simply didn't know her history.

The Wayne's had been nothing but supportive, as she'd expected. Talia, in the few times they'd seen each other, had seemed awkward and stiff, but never directly said anything against it all, which was better than Ra's who went out of his way to tell Rosalind she'd always be his grandson. 

The media seemed to take it all in stride, still obsessed with her transition and how different she looked now. She'd learned from a young age to have a thick skin towards the media, and didn't let any of that bother her. The other interesting thing was how kids on social media looked up to her, saying how much they appreciated how public she was with it all, how she didn't hide being trans, and how inspiring it was, to see that there were people who could be comfortable in their bodies and have families who accepted them. 

She didn't know how to handle it all some days. 

Bruce offered her a hand when they got to the venue, and they walked in, arm in arm, Rosalind's skirt trailing out behind them a little. 

"Will you be okay?" Bruce asked softly, leaning in to be heard over the press.

Rosalind smiled a little, glancing up at him.

"Yes baba, I'll be quite alright. I do still remember how to handle galas."

"Alright well, same protocols as they used to be."

She nodded, squeezing his hand a little. Then the doors were opened, and they were thrust into the chaos of a Martha Wayne Charity Gala. She mingled with Bruce for a while, getting cooed over by different rich people. Then Bruce got pulled away by the mayor, and she wandered away. 

Rosalind was poking at the hors d'oeuvres, a champagne glass held lightly in one hand when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She took a breath and turned, and froze. Standing in front of her was a boy she vaguely recognized as Jonathan Kent. Except he wasn't a boy anymore. He was taller than her, even with her heels on, and he had just really grown up, broader in the shoulders, slimmer face, more defined facial features. There was still a youngness to his face, but he had clearly matured. His black hair was curly, cut in a slight fade cut, and he was wearing a light grey suit with a vest, no tie.

"Hey, Ro," Jon said softly, and Rosalind couldn't look away as those bright blue eyes flicked down, taking her in. 

"Jonathan," she said softly.

"You look gorgeous." Jon's eyes lingered on her body, and she unconsciously straightened, sucking in her stomach a little more. 

She was wearing this gorgeous deep green gown, the skirt was full length with a rather high slit up the left side, and the neckline dipped down a considerable amount before coming back in two off the shoulder straps. Her hair had been curled and pinned and fussed with, her makeup flawlessly worked with her dress, and she was wearing a gold and black diamond princess-style necklace. 

Rosalind remembered Jonathan had spoken, and laughed lightly, looking away. 

"Thank you, Jonathan." She glanced up at him, still smiling. "You look rather dashing too."

"Oh thanks," he chuckled and reached up, rubbing the back of his neck.

They looked at each other for a long time, and Rosalind could barely believe her eyes. The man in front of her was nothing like the child she'd known eight years ago.

“I didn’t-” she cleared her throat, glancing over as an older couple came towards the table. She reached up, looping her arm through Jon’s, and pulled him away. “I didn’t know if you’d actually come.”

“Yeah, well…” He shrugged lightly, smiling down at her, that bright, happy smile she remembered.

It made something in her chest ache.

“Did Lois drag you along?” She tried to joke, glancing down at her hand on his arm.

“No. I was hoping to see you, actually.”

Her heart jumped into her throat at that, she could feel it racing, and looked up just in time to see him glance down towards her chest.

“You okay?”

Rosalind nodded, trying to give him a little smile. Why the hell was she acting like this? She looked away from that warm smile, looking around the event, trying to locate her father, or Jonathan’s parents. She wasn’t trying to escape from him, but rather from this room.

“Let me…” She shifted away, holding her champagne glass out. “Hold that.”

Once he took it, she dug her phone out from the small handbag she had, sending Bruce a quick text saying they were going outside. Then she tucked the phone back, took her champagne flute again, and hooked her arm back through his, leading him away.

“Where are we going?” Jon asked, but followed anyway. He had always followed her lead.

“To talk away from people who have one foot in the grave. And hopefully the press.”

Jon made a little oohh sound and seemed content to walk with her. Rosalind tried to get her heart back under control as the walked, her champagne in the hand that was wrapped around Jon’s arm, so she could hold up her skirt slightly with the other one. It had been so long since she’d seen him in person. Months since they’d talked more than a few texts. She did feel guilty about that, she had never meant to run from him, she had just gotten so busy and barely could keep up the friendships she had in Oxford, let alone one that was all the way in America.

Eventually, they found a door out to the back of the event center. There was a little ampitheatre out here that was currently unoccupied and a small garden dining area. She led him towards the garden.

“So, how have you been?” Jon asked softly, looking around, not at her.

“Busy,” she replied, sighing softly and dropping her skirts to take a sip of her champagne. “Very busy.”

“Yeah?”

Rosalind nodded, looking up at his profile. “I’ve been trying to get my degree faster, so I’m doing twice the amount of work of anyone else in my year, which has led to an absolute lack of free time. I haven’t been able to do any side classes, and before you ask, no I’m not in any clubs or sports.”

Jon chuckled a little. “Price of being smart, I guess.”

“Hm?”

“Well, like. You’re smart enough that if you were following a normal schedule you’d have way too much free time, but you’re following an advanced schedule so you’re kinda in the same boat most kids are.”

“I suppose.”

“But you’ve been okay?” Jon stopped walking and turned slightly to face her, keeping their arms looped.

“Yes, Jonathan,” she hummed, smiling fondly at him. “I don’t think I’ve broken a single bone in two years, which is an odd and new experience, though not an unwelcome one.”

He laughed at that. “Well, I think the fact that you’re no longer running around in Kevlar helped that bit.”

“Perhaps.” She finished her champagne and turned the little glass in her fingers for a moment. “What about you? How have you been?”

“God uh…” He looked away, clearing his throat a little. “Life’s been a shit show.”

“Oh…”

“I graduated this year, so that’s… yeah. Good, I guess? Bittersweet. Uh, the guy I was dating for months turned out to be a total fuckwad and tried to- well he was just a toxic shit and breaking up was a whole mess. Pops is going down hill, which we all expected but still sucks. And I… have no plans for my future.”

Rosalind stared at him for a moment, eyes wide.

“Allah, Jonathan, I’m- I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged a little. “Yeah, thanks.”

The silence that followed was awkward and uncomfortable, and she wasn’t quite sure how to break it. So she tugged on his arm again, turning to walk down towards the amphitheater. It was a little awkward navigating the wide grassy steps in her heels, but she managed.

“I am sorry,” she murmured when they were walking towards the stage.

“Ro, it’s not your fault. I mean-”

“No. No I meant… for drifting apart. That’s my fault, and I am sorry. I wish it hadn’t of happened.”

“Oh.”

They climbed the steps, and walked across the wide empty concrete stage. They looked up at the empty seats for a minute.

“I figured you were just… busy. Thought about coming to visit a few times but… Didn’t want to get in the way of your life.”

She turned to look up at him, and after a moment, he turned as well, and they looked at each other.

“You can come any time.”

He smiled a little, and nodded.

“Okay.”

“So what happened with that boyfriend?” She asked after a long pause.

“Oh god uh. Right so we started dating like at… end of Junior year, okay? I went to stay with my grandparents last summer, just to help out and kinda… Get an idea of what goes on there because I think I might move out there with how bad Pa is, but anyways-” Jon cleared his throat again. His voice wasn’t terribly deep, honestly, it was probably about the same pitch as Rosalind’s was if she intentionally didn’t pitch it higher, but it was smooth and pleasant to listen to, and he still had the slightest twang of a southern accent. “So I didn’t see him - Devon, was his name – I didn’t see Devon like at all that summer, but we texted and called some, right? He was great that summer and the first few months of the school year, but right around Christmas break, shit got weird.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yeah. So we always go over to Kansas for Christmas, you know that, right? He straight up accused me of having a guy in Kansas I was going to see all the time, because I go there every break instead of staying in Metropolis with him.”

“Oh for fucks sake.”

“Yeah!” Jon said, he was getting a little worked up now. “Right? So I tried explaining to him that hey man, I’m going to Kansas all the time because my grandpa is dying but he wasn’t having it. And he was real pissy when I got back for New Year, like wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t touch me until he got drunk at a party and wanted me to prove I was still loyal to him or some shit like that.”

Rosalind made a little face, but let him keep talking uninterrupted.

“Which by the way he was always real weird about sex, I think it was because I’m trans, but whatever, ya know? So I gave it a few more weeks, told him to knock it off or else, he got worse and more possessive, so I broke up with him, and he spent the next few months trying to get me to get back with him until Kon got involved.”

Rosalind sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t understand men. No offense.”

Jon laughed, looking down at her, grinning. “None taken, Ro.”

He looked at her for a moment, and then frowned.

“What?” she asked, eyebrow arching.

“You have goosebumps.”

She blinked and looked down, and realized that yes, indeed, she did, and suddenly realized just how cold she was. She had been huddled in against Jon while he told his story, and hadn’t noticed how the warm summer air was getting cooler as the sun went down. Jon pulled away, undid his jacket, and shrugged it off, draping it over her shoulders.

“You don’t-” was all she managed to get out before he was giving her a scowl. “Okay.”

She adjusted the jacket a little, getting hit by a wave of sandalwood and patchouli. Jon was giving her an odd little look that she couldn’t quite describe.

“So what about you, any romantic endeavors in ye old Oxford?”

Rosalind snorted softly, shaking her head.

“No. Not really, a few hookups here and there, but nothing lasting. I discovered much the same as you did, people are weird about sex and relationships with trans people.”

Jon sighed and nodded a little. “Yeah, it’s unfortunate.”

Rosalind hummed a little. Jon looked at her for a moment, then suddenly took her champagne flute and purse, pulling them out of her hands.

“What are you doing?”

“Shh.”

He set them down near the edge of the stage and came back, taking her right hand in his left, his other hand going down to her hip.

“May I?”

Rosalind’s heart kicked up again, and she felt her face warming. She nodded, but pulled away instead, slipping her arms through the sleeves of the jacket before taking his hand again, putting her free one on his arm. They very slowly started swaying and turning, smiling at each other.

“You do look absolutely stunning , Ro,” Jon whispered, eyes flitting across her face.

“Thank you,” she murmured, glancing away briefly.

People told her how pretty she was all the time, but it was different when it was Jon for some reason.

He lifted a hand, gently pushing a strand of hair from her face, before returning the hand to its earlier position, and she couldn’t keep her heart from skyrocketing. He smirked a little, stepping back and pulling her into a larger waltz. She followed along easily.

“When did you get so tall?” she huffed softly, trying to muster a glare.

“Dunno, it's not like either of my parents are short, so we think it’s a mix of that, the Kryptonian DNA, and starting T pretty young. But mostly the Kryptonian think. I mean, Kara’s not exactly short either.”

Rosalind grunted at that. That was certainly true, all of the Kryptonian’s she’d met were all six foot or taller. She let Jon spin her out, then back in, her back to his chest.

“So do you have a preference?” Jon asked as they swayed a little bit like that.

“In?” she spun back out, doing a few twirls as she came back to face Jon properly, his hand going to her hip, and then slipping around to her back.

“Relationships.”

She was quiet, hand slipping off of his shoulder and more onto his bicep, which was fairly toned.

“I suppose I tend to lean towards men, but not overly.”

Jon nodded softly. They were close enough that she really had to tilt her head up to look at him.

“You?” She asked, trying to not let her words tangle in her throat.

Jon just smiled, squeezing her hand a little, and she felt like she could drown in that smile. They didn’t speak for a while, just silently waltzed around an empty stage as the sun continued dipping below the buildings surrounding them, leaving them in darkness.

When the Kent’s left that night, Rosalind saw them out, pulling Jon into the safety of a dark doorway to give him a hug, and a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Come visit me please,” she whispered, and then ducked away, heading back inside with her cheeks aflame.

Jonathan:
Hey gorgeous, how ya doing?

Ro:
I’m alright, classes started this week so I’m pretty busy again.
You?

Jonathan:
Just got done with the county fair, got all the beasties back home

Ro:
Isn’t this rather late for a fair?

Jonathan:
Maybe, but school around here starts late bc of it

Ro:
Ah.
How’s your grandfather?

Jonathan:
He’s… Okay. He’s been better, but I think summer helped a little.

Ro:
That’s good.

Jonathan:
Yeah
I miss you

Ro:
I miss you too, Jonathan
Come soon?

Jonathan:
I’ll try, Ro, promise

Jon took a breath, staring at the apartment building below him.

This was his first time in England, his first time visiting Rosalind. Since that gala, things had been… different between them. Different in a good way. Ro texted him a lot more, she actually texted first, and made effort to uphold a conversation and ask about him. And he was loving it.

He had tried getting over her, when she first left for Oxford. That had led to a string of dates and then his douche ex, but nothing had ever worked , because that night, dancing with her at the gala, all his feelings had come roaring back to life. She seemed to reciprocate almost, and it made him giddy to think about it.

After a while of floating there, above the apartment, he finally sank down, landing in a nearby alley and walking to the front door, finding the button for Rosalind’s apartment and hitting it. There was a pause, then something buzzed.

“Come on up!” a voice chirped out from the intercom.

He grinned, adjusted his backpack, and pulled the door open, jogging up the steps until he found the right door. It was a fairly nice apartment building so far, but of course, it was, Bruce wouldn’t have let her get anything less. He knocked and then stepped back a little, waiting politely. It wasn’t a long wait before the door was swinging open.

“Jonathan!” Rosalind’s cheery voice greeted. She was holding the door open with her shoulder while she dried her hands, and she looked like a fucking vision.

She was wearing a cream sweater and knee-length black skirt, her hair tied back with a silk scarf. He felt a little out of place in his ratty jeans and hoodie now.

“Hi,” he greeted, once he found his voice again. She chuckled softly, grabbing his hand and pulling him inside.

“Welcome to England,” she hummed, shutting and locking the door behind them.

The apartment wasn’t terribly large, they were in a decent sized room that had a sofa and tv area, a dining table shoved off in one corner, and a narrow table with a few plants underneath a window. To the left, he could see a small, but neat and new-looking kitchen, and down a little hall were three doors, the last two partially shut and far enough that he couldn’t see in them, while the closer one was clearly a bathroom.

“I like your place,” he hummed, waving around.

“Thank you,” She grinned at him, and headed into the kitchen, grabbing a tray off the counter and putting it in the oven.

“What are you making?” he asked, slinging off his backpack and setting it by the door before kicking off his sneakers.

“Just some sweet bread, thought it’d be a nice snack.”

“Please tell me you got your baking from Alfred,” Jon said with a little laugh, walking closer.

Rosalind laughed as well, smiling at him. “Yes. You are safe from baba’s cooking genes.”

“Oh thank Rao.”

They were still laughing as Jon pulled Rosalind into a hug, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She leaned into him, arms around his waist, and let out a soft sigh.

“It’s been too long,” she mumbled, cheek against his shoulder.

“Well, it’s been a lot less than the last time we went without seeing each other.”

“Shut up,” she huffed, pinching his side lightly.

He smiled, resisting the urge to kiss her head, and pulled away. She put away a few baking supplies, and he just leaned a shoulder against the doorway and watched.

“So. Plan for the day. Wait for this to finish, then we can go out and get dinner, and come back here and hang out,” she was saying, and he noticed with a jolt her accent had changed.

When he didn’t reply, she turned to look at him, eyebrow raising.

“What?”

“You started talking with a British accent.”

“What?”

“Your accent. It’s gotten more British. Like you’ve always had a weird accent, but now it’s British.”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous, Ken-” she stopped, scowling at the sink. “Wait like this?”

Her voice shifted again, back to a Gothamite accent.

“Yeah!”

“Hm. No that feels wrong,” she decided, accent going back to British.

“It’s so weird that you can do that,” Jon said with a little laugh, watching her clean up.

“I always have been able to. I don’t know if it was a thing Mother specifically taught me, or just a talent I’ve always had.”

Jon shrugged. He heard a soft thump from another room and froze, turning slowly.

“I thought you lived alone?”

“I do.”

He frowned, glancing at Rosalind again, then walked away slowly, heading towards the other two rooms. He pushed one door open and saw it was an office and guest bedroom, but empty. He turned to the other, pushing it open slowly, and a cat darted out past him.

“Oh thank god,” he sighed softly, watching the grey fuzzball trot down the hall towards the kitchen, meowing.

He glanced in the room, realizing it must be Rosalind’s bedroom. It was fairly neat, but the bed was unmade and there were a few shirts and hoodies on the floor. He shut the door again most of the way, leaving enough room for the cat to get in and out, and walked back.

“So who’s this?” he asked, finding Rosalind with the cat rubbing against her legs.

“Merlin,” she hummed, glancing up and smiling. “I suppose I should have warned you.”

“No it’s fine, sorry for uh, freaking out, probably should’ve realized you’d have a pet.”

She just smiled, bending to scoop up the cat.

They hung out for a while, chatting and catching up, and then got changed, heading out. Rosalind took him to a nice restaurant, they shared a bottle of wine, just talking and laughing and having a good time. It was nice. Jon had missed this. He was feeling warm and bubbly by the time they were walking back towards Rosalind’s apartment, and in a burst of confidence, he reached out, slipping an arm around her and tugging her into his side. She just let herself be pulled over, her arm going around his hips to keep them tucked in close.

They were giggling by the time they got into her apartment. She kicked off the heeled boots she’d been wearing, and left to go into the kitchen, feeding Merlin before coming back, pushing Jon down onto the sofa and collapsing next to him.

“Movie?” she hummed sweetly, hooking her ankle under his shin as she turned to face him.

He felt his heart rate skyrocket. He knew his face was already flushed from the wine and the cool air they’d been walking in, and he just hoped that would help cover the blush already forming. These sure were some strong signals Rosalind was sending, he just hope she meant to send them.

“Sure,” he said, tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

She grabbed a remote, turned on the tv and flipped through streaming apps until they agreed on a movie. Then she stayed close, practically pressed against his side. He didn’t pull away or anything like that. In fact, he found himself wrapping an arm tighter around her and pulling her in close. She just hummed softly, resting a hand on his chest and putting one leg up over his knee, foot behind his other leg. It was comfortable and nice, and so much closer than they’d ever been.

By the time the movie finished, Rosalind had slumped into him, clearly getting tired, and oddly enough he felt himself leaning that way, despite the fact that back home it was only four pm. They sat there for a minute, staring at the credits, and after her third yawn, Jon sighed.

“Come on, Ro, you should go to-”

He didn’t get to finish, because suddenly she had surged up, kissing him hard. He froze for a second, the world slowing around him. He could smell her vanilla and citrus perfume, and her rosemary shampoo. Her lips were soft and warm against his. Her hand had clenched in his shirt, and she had shifted to be on her knees slightly. It was less then a second real time before he was grabbing at her hips, kissing back. She pulled away after a bit, eyes searching his face. She seemed satisfied with what she saw, because she leaned in, kissing him again gently. They sat there for a while, just kissing, before she pulled away fully, sitting back.

“Stay the night?” She asked, tilting her head. “Please?”

“I’d love to.”