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It was just past JJ’s fifth year anniversary with his master.
Conner leaned against the wall, his suit cinching nicely against his biceps as he nursed a whiskey sour. Conner was eight now, older and wiser. It was rare for Luthor to entertain guests so late at night, but with unsavory business partners, there was always flexibility in Luthor’s habits. Conner himself didn’t keep up with Gotham news, but he knew to keep his mouth shut about whatever he might hear. He was an expensive bodyguard and an even more expensive publicity stunt when cameras were rolling, but when the witching hour came and went, with the Joker still in his father’s office, Conner hardly blinked before downing the entire drink in a single swallow. It tasted like ash.
JJ was against the floor-to-ceiling window pane, face pressing against the glass and smearing that god-awful white makeup that smelled of turpentine. His hair looked matted, and the clothes were threadbare. It was December, and Conner wouldn’t have to look hard to find bones jutting out against his skin if he looked long enough. Still, JJ started humming, face rolling a sticky imprint of skin all over his little corner of the window as he watched Metropolis below.
There wasn’t much to say. Conner got up to pour himself a drink, the body guards still as statues by the door. As if Conner needed the security. No, they were an idle reminder that he had ‘handlers’ at every turn, and it itched. He poured himself three fingers’ worth.
He swore to the world that he didn’t care about JJ, but they were in the same pathetic boat. He poured a second drink for the other man, adding sugar syrup and lime and making it easier to drink.
“Nice night,” Conner said, holding out JJ's drink and cursing himself for how fucking stupid he was.
JJ went quiet, his stupid hat jingling as his head twisted. The black mask that usually forced JJ’s eyes into blank whites was discarded onto the floor, leaving him more naked and open. He stared, eyes wandering past Conner several times before staying on his face. A black glove reached out to take the glass, and JJ brought the glass up to his lips. Conner drank with him, forgoing the toast.
“They’re little ants, down there,” JJ said, his face twisted as he took a gulp. He looked down at the mint and ice swirling in amber. “It’s not sweet enough.”
Conner’s mouth twitched, and he said, “I’ll fix it.” It didn’t take much to bring the triple sec from the bar, and he poured generously atop JJ’s ice. He waited for some signal to stop, but that didn’t happen, so Conner just stopped when the glass was full. “Give that a swirl?”
JJ didn’t, and Conner snorted at JJ’s heavy swig of sugar water. He sipped his own drink as they both stared out the window again.
They were quiet for some time, long enough for the security guards in the room to receive some new order before they left. The lights in the room dimmed, and Conner watched the skyline clear up. Gray clouds passed, a half moon shining just behind them.
“There’s ants up here, too,” Conner said, looking at the double doors to the office in the reflection of the window pane.
“No,” JJ replied. He clinked the glass against the window. “I just see dolls.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong about that.
The itch in his spine worsened, and Conner scowled at that blasted reflection. Behind those doors, years of his life were spent in someone else’s name. Years of dependency before the tipping point, and years of threats after it. And everyone from JJ to fucking Superman had something to say about it. One begged and set ultimatums and pathetic reassurances, while the other only said what he saw. JJ knew, when his brain wasn’t too fried to forget it: he understood.
Conner felt something ache in his chest, a familiar knife twisting his heart for the other man. He didn’t choose this, Conner was sure, but he couldn’t imagine a place that could even begin to help him. No one as invulnerable as Conner that could be safe against JJ’s tantrums, no one that could keep him steady and not throw him away after it was all said and done, and-
Oh, Conner thought he was an idiot before.
It was so much easier to justify it to himself in JJ’s name. It crept to the surface as they drank in silence, and the nagging, flashing neon sign in his mind that said THIS IS STUPID was loud and clear. He chugged the last of his drink.
“... Hey, JJ?” Conner’s mouth moved on its own. Oh, but if it did work-
JJ hummed, sliding the stout glass until it made a grating screech against the window.
“I have a stupid idea.”
JJ set the glass down, the lasting half of his drink tipping onto the carpet. His smile was positively manic. “I love stupid ideas.”
“Want to go?” Conner asked. He put a hand out, because he didn’t know how else to say it.
JJ stared at his hand. It was soft and pink, Conner never having the chance to give it callouses. At first he hated his body. It was a mimic of someone else, someone greater and better than him in every way. He couldn’t mark it for himself, couldn’t give himself tattoos or piercings or change it. Today, he’d change it. Today, he’d remove a tumor and do something really fucking stupid. And he was dragging JJ along for the ride.
“... go?” JJ echoed. He looked hungry.
“Yeah, go.”
Conner let him think. He’d seen the man work before in passing news footage. Some moments, JJ could devise and execute ideas that were twisted with efficiency and cleverness. Other times, JJ couldn’t figure out the difference between up and down. Today, he just seemed tired. Maybe he was somewhere between the two moments, or maybe he’s thinking about something else entirely. Conner didn’t think JJ knew how much time really passed in that moment of quiet.
“I want to go.” JJ’s voice was a whisper. It made Conner’s ears swell with blood because it felt too familiar. He himself would whisper such things into his pillow late at night; a child in an adult’s body.
“Let’s go together.”
JJ’s hand was so cold, the leather feeling stiff like plastic in Conner’s hand. He pulled JJ up, deciding then and there that Conner would hold on and make sure JJ saw the other side, too. The other man swayed for a moment, and Conner steadied him, dropping his own glass onto the carpet with a heavy-bottomed thunk. JJ’s eyes lost focus, and Conner worried that perhaps he didn’t have much in his system before he drank spiked sugar water.
After JJ could keep his feet under him, Conner bent down to pick up the discarded mask. They’d need it if they wanted to get through this without Lex reigning hell down on them.
JJ’s cloudy blues stared at Conner like he hung the moon, holding his mask as if Conner handed him something precious. Maybe a memory, maybe a dream. “We’re going?”
“I need something,” Conner ushered them to the elevators, though he didn’t let his hand leave JJ’s steely grip. He kept a cool expression on his face, cold and bored. His shoulders were pulled back and confident as he walked through Lex’s building for what he hoped was the last goddamn time.
JJ gave a little “oh”, but didn’t ask anymore questions. Conner led the charge well, and JJ kept pace, both of their masks firmly in place once again. Two elevator flights and three long hallways later, Conner stood at one of the secret sub-basement level doors. He swiped his key card, only to hear a low “error” tone.
So he wasn’t allowed in the SuperTech room. Fuck you, Lex.
JJ tapped his shoulder, and Conner stopped growling at the door to turn around. There, JJ held out another keycard, one from one of the research techs they just passed in the hallway.
“... Did you just-”
JJ’s teeth were browning with neglect, but they looked no less sharp. The door gave a confirming chirrup when Conner swiped it.
Conner chuckled, hope swirling in his gut as the anticipation mounted. A deep breath later, and Conner resumed his cold demeanor. Last time, last time, last time-
Walking into the Tech room, it was the same as most of the other labs Conner knew. Though more mechanical and engineering types of projects took place here, he still felt a little wary. Instead of kryptonite-laden needles and petri dishes, it was all heavy machinery and complex circuitry. Power with god-killing bullets in mind, or at least had strong prospects for it. And if it didn't kill Superman, Lex would still sell it to the highest bidding country to keep the alien busy. Who doesn’t love war profiteering?
The lab was occupied by no less than sixteen people. They were top-of-their-field engineers and designers, all working through the night because of the fear mongering businessman that lounged a hundred floors above.
“Get out,” Conner said over the buzz of soldering guns. “Client’s coming down.”
There was a lull in the work atmosphere. A braver employee stepped away from her table, greeting Conner at the door. Her black hair was disheveled as half of it was out of her bun. “Sir, I don’t think you have the authority to make that decision.”
“The client is coming down. Do you want to stay while he appraises the merchandise?”
Her eyes darted over to JJ, and she paled. At her blatant fear, JJ started laughing, freakish and echoing. Conner squeezed JJ's hand still in his.
“... Our deadlines-” She said quietly.
“Will be adjusted if any prototypes need repairs,” Conner interrupted. He was lying through his teeth, but for once it felt good, self-satisfying even. He wasn’t even allowed down here, but fake it ‘till you make it, right?
JJ's hand tensed in his. Conner squeezed back, oh so gently.
There was a tense shuffling, papers put away into dense folders, computers and equipment shutting down until most of the hum in the room died away. JJ brushed past them all, and Conner’s hand felt cold at the separation. JJwandered, a few engineers flinching at him touching millions of dollars of machinery. He sat on a table and waved them goodbye.
The last engineer patted Conner’s shoulder, thanking him in a low tone. Conner nodded, and the door sealed behind him with six whirring bolts sliding into place.
Conner sighed, adrenaline creeping higher and higher as he walked towards the lead-lined cabinet at the back of the room. “Alright. Almost done, JJ. I’ll need you.”
JJ kicked his legs out, letting them dangle and swing before he hopped down. His hat and boots jingled, the little bells out of tune and loud in this underground deathbox. Conner appreciated his patience.
“I need a kryptonite knife, something small and precise,” he explained, and JJ hummed.
Instead of psyching himself out of it, Conner swiped the borrowed card one more time. Opening the storage room’s door was painful, and Conner nearly blacked out at the wave of weakness that threatened to make him buckle. Inside were several lumps of unrefined kryptonite, cases of kryptonite bullets made in-house, and handheld weapons that lined the walk-in storage closet. It all radiated a sickly green glow, one that almost burned the inside of Conner’s eyelids, lining his nightmares. Doctors with radioactive green scalpels, flaying him apart and discerning what went wrong with him, taking notes for future, better products-
There was a frightening laughter, and Conner covered his face. He slid to the floor, watching Lex sneer down at him as he was cut open and vivisected-
Leadened door shut with a click, and Conner woke up.
JJ was standing above him, holding a small dagger too close to his own face. The green light cast a sickly glow on his white make-up and masked eyes, and his laughter worsened as it took on a panicked edge.
"Shit." Conner scrambled, moving his now aching bones to grab the little dagger and pull it out of JJ's hand. It tingled as if it was electrified. He threw it across the room, landing it on one of the work desks as they both stopped to catch their breaths.
JJ's giggling died down, a knuckle stuffed between his teeth to bite down on more visceral laughs. Conner leaned up against the door, head pressing against the cold metal so he could focus again.
"You hate glowing green shit, too," Conner said, more of a statement than a question.
JJ leaned against the door, moving closer to him. He grabbed Conner’s hand and held it tightly. Conner was on the floor, JJ looming over him. He wasn't worried, not even a little afraid of the Rogue that stayed so close. It was a miracle and a half that JJ wasn't doing something drastic, and Conner only gave himself a few moments to recover from the kryptonite's power.
“Alright,” Conner sighed. He squeezed JJ’s hand, another breath before he pulled himself up. It was slow, his muscles aching in a way they rarely did. He felt tired, strung apart as if the kryptonite unwound his very being and ripped him until he frayed.
“... We’re going?” JJ asked. Conner didn’t like the distance in his voice, as if someone else was talking.
Conner put both his hands on JJ’s shoulders, turning him until their noses were nearly touching. This was the worst part of his plan, the part most likely to kill him, and it all hung on a madman. “I need your help.”
There was nothing sensual about Conner stipping JJ’s gloves off, nor was there anything less than desperation as he pulled JJ’s arms over Conner’s shoulders. His hands guided JJ’s, making ice cold fingers trace along his spine. Conner pressed them down, helping the other find that delicate bump between two of his vertebrae. JJ hummed in curiosity.
“I need this out,” Conner explained, his voice pained but his eyes intently pinning down the other man through his mask. “It’s my leash. It needs to be out before I’m free. Can you cut it out without hurting my spine?”
JJ swayed, icy fingers dancing along Conner’s spine as if to pet him. It was an echo of a sensual touch, something one of Conner’s one night stands would do as he spent a night of passion forgetting himself. It gave Conner shivers nonetheless, dread and self-pity intertwining.
“You have to focus,” Conner pressed, and JJ giggled. The other man pulled Conner through the lab, and Conner let himself stumble behind. This or death, Conner assured himself.
“I have you. A leash for a leash,” JJ smiled crookedly. With surprising strength from such a thin man, Conner was forced into a chair. Conner let him work, his own hands clutching onto the edge of the workspace until the metal crumpled under his hands, and he took deep breaths as JJ danced around him.
The humming worsened, and Conner could see the little bob of his head. JJ picked up the glowing knife, bouncing across the room like a marionette. The grip on the blade was steady, well practiced, and Conner forced himself to believe that this was a good idea.
His skin felt like a livewire as the buzz of kryptonite drew closer and closer. Conner discarded his tie and jacket, unbuttoning his shirt to pull it away from his neck. He propped his head up, keeping still while JJ’s hand pet down his back. Cold fingers circled the chip, and Conner hid his face in his hands in prayer.
“Pretty boy,” JJ said, saccharine and sweet. “Pretty doll. I’ll cut the strings for you.” And Conner felt the prick that burned his spine. “No gods, no masters.”
Conner’s vision blackened, shock and pain pouring through him. It was agony, sitting so still while being dissected alive. He choked, the quietest whines burning his own ears while his blood boiled like acid.
“Breathe, pretty boy. Breathe,” JJ murmured, humming as he worked.
Conner breathed.
Minutes dragged by with Tim’s half-finished tunes blending with the rumbles of machinery nearby. Eventually, the pain in Conner’s spine flared. There was a sickening splat and a clattering of metal sliding across the desk. Conner shuddered, curling inward as waves of pain passed by him. The little shushes above him were soothing, JJ cooing and petting his shoulders as Conner worked through the hurt. Eventually it waned, and Conner’s head laid on the desk in exhaustion.
JJ’s noises died away, but Conner felt a poke on his cheek. He opened his eyes, and JJ’s face laid on the table right next to him all too closely. Pained eyes met the dead, opaque mask lens, and Conner sighed.
He flexed his fingers and toes, and yes, thank god they all work.
“No more strings?” JJ asked.
Conner smiled, and it was the most real and relaxed expression he’d ever made. Euphoria blended with ache, satisfaction replaced the acid in his bones.
“No more strings,” he confirmed.
JJ stared at him in awe, something alien and sweet behind the mask.
“No more strings,” JJ repeated, his hand petting Conner’s hair. His fingers tangled in Conner’s locks, snagging a few knots and leaving little pinpricks of pain, but Conner just snorted. It was innocent, it was kind, and Conner could only feel grateful for the other. His eyes slid shut, and he flexed his hands and feet as feeling returned to him.
They rested, Conner’s incision slowly clotting. It might even scar, Conner thought with a twisted sense of pleasure. He hoped it did.
Conner’s energy returned, ever so slowly, but he knew JJ was getting impatient. The hand left his hair, and there was a jingling sound as JJ moved around Conner. Conner lifted his head just in time to see JJ slice at his own throat.
Conner screamed something intelligible, jumping and grabbing the elbow holding the kryptonite knife. Conner frantically tried to hold back JJ’s hand, only to freeze in complete shock as JJ sliced the collar off his neck. It was frantic but efficient, JJ nicking his skin enough to leave a dribble of blood behind. The thick leather snapped with a little jingle of the bell. JJ’s smile was too wide, stretching the corners of his mouth in a way that made his cheek-scars ripple. He threw the collar down next to Conner’s control chip.
Conner’s lung nearly collapsed from the stress, but fuck wasn’t it a sight to see. Conner and JJ’s blood mixed on the table, little splatters next to their ripped strings.
“Can we go now?” JJ asked, placing the knife almost reverently between their discarded tumors. He stared at the table for a long moment.
Conner felt heat prick at the corners of his eyes, something aching and warm and wet. He nodded, grabbing JJ’s hand again. “Yeah. Hold onto me?”
JJ turned to face the other man, his expression raw. Conner knew he didn’t look much better.
JJ reached out to pet Conner’s face, and the Super’s expression cracked into a smile. JJ mirrored it. “Let’s go.”
Conner scooped up JJ, the lithe man all too light despite the dense muscle. Flying out of LexCorp’s sub-basements only to wreck the main lobby gave him a twisted sense of satisfaction. JJ was whooping and hollering, clinging to Conner’s neck as the Super punched a hole through a concrete wall, shattered several stories of glass, and left a cascade of rubble behind them. Conner took them up and up and up, flying far above Metropolis until the clouds obfuscated the little pinpricks of light below. Above them, the moon was bright, a cool balm that splashed their faces in silver.
Conner’s chest swelled and nearly burst with a wave of emotion. He couldn’t help but shout out into the night. JJ hollering and screaming alongside them. JJ threw his stupid hat into the sky, and it whipped behind them and disappeared into the clouds with a sad jingle. Conner laughed, twisting his legs in front of him so JJ could watch Conner kick off his Amedeo Testoni Oxfords so they could fly into the abyss below. JJ wiggled in Conner’s bridal style carry, pulling his stupid Jester shoes off by the belled toes, and the two of them laughed like maniacs. And maybe they were. Years of rage and fear, and they both threw it all away in a single stupid moment. It was suicide, it was liberation, it was foolish. It was catharsis.
After minutes of happy cries, their voices died to the wind around them. JJ’s head rested on Conner’s shoulder, and Conner’s cheeks ached from smiling so much. Soon, JJ’s skin started to feel balmy and cold, but the man hardly shivered in Conner’s arms. Conner took a moment to spread TTK along JJ’s skin, giving him a buffer of air to insulate the smaller man.
JJ’s lanky arms hugged him tighter, forehead nuzzling up Conner’s neck until his lips nearly touched Conner’s ear.
“Tim,” he said, as if passing along a secret.
That feeling in his chest swelled all over again, and Conner cried. He laughed and he cried, and he pressed his face against Tim’s bony cheek.
“Nice to meet you, Tim. I’m Conner.”
Conner didn’t have a fucking clue about what to do next. He has a madman to look after, no future prospects or any sense of security he could draw from the Justice League. Luthor might shoot on sight, and Big Blue might try to arrest him and Tim in a single frosty look of disappointment.
It didn’t fucking matter right now, though. He chased the euphoria, the wind in his hair and the icy clouds passing by him, and he basked. He’ll find solid ground eventually, but right now he held Tim close because being Just Them against the world felt so wonderful. He breathed against Tim’s skin, and Tim laughed. And Conner laughed, and it felt so good. He’ll think of something, hours after the bliss waned away. Maybe they just piss off to Hawaii and leave the world of heroes and villains for a while.
Huh, maybe that’s not a bad call at all.