Chapter Text
“I don’t like anyone, Jonathan.” Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes as he watched the other eat his food like a starved cow; uncaring of the ketchup and mustard mix that squirted onto his face with nearly every bite. Damian hated that; how could he be so messy? They include small pieces of towel paper in those grease filled paper bags for a reason; so why isn’t Jon using them?
“Yah you do,” Jon says between bites, messily chewing with his mouth partially opened; it irks Damian to no ends, and he is mere seconds away from knocking the damned thing from his hands, because surely it isn’t that hard to simply wrap the sides of a burger in napkin so it’s residue won’t be all over you.
But Jon is Jon, and no matter how much Damian wouldn’t like to admit it, that’s part of what makes him like the farm boy. He used to think ‘like’ was a strong word. In a way to Damian, ‘ like ’ meant you didn’t just tolerate someone, you appreciated their presence, if anything, you wanted it. Dare he even say, desired it.
Damian didn’t like Jonathan the same way he liked Maya. He didn’t appreciate Maya’s presence or character the way he appreciated Jonathan’s; and that scared him. Damian was in no way likable, his personality wasn’t endearing, wasn’t soft and warm and burning bright like the sun. His personality was dull and gray, a mirage of mute colors and dreary windows.
Jonathan was that warm; that bright personality that outshone nearly everyone else’s around him, that was caring, and kind, and everything that Damian envied. Jonathan was everything Damian wishes he was; but he’s not, and he knows he never will be. But whenever he sees Jonathan something sets; an ounce and no more of kindness settles and nestles itself into his heart, warm, gooey, and pure.
“I don’t.” Damian snarks, rolling his eyes and scoffing at Jonathan’s sitting form, though there's a small grin on his face; subtle, yet undeniably there. He doesn’t realize the smile is even on his face until he glances over and notices Jonathan looking at him, a matching grin on his face.
“You should smile more, ya know, you have a real pretty smile.” Jonathan laughs, loud and boisterous, effective. It makes Damian’s smile wider, it makes his small grin almost reach his eyes, makes his face twist into a small grimace, his throat threatening to release those bubbles of laughter that yearn to burst out.
“And you have absolutely disgusting mannerisms, please clean your hands,” Damian sighed, pushing Jonathan’s dirty face away from his own, pulling out napkins of the paper bag and handing them to Jonathan; the grin on his face long gone before it could’ve managed to grow into something more.
“I don’t,” Jon says, snatching the napkin and roughly cleaning his face off, only to dirty it again, and like he was doing minutes ago, he goes back to blabbering about whatever comes to his pea sized brain, chewing with his mouth opened and carelessly eating away at his burger.
“You truly are a farm animal, Jonathan.” Damian snickered, and Jonathan responded by playfully head butting Damian in the shoulder; though when he did so, instead of sitting back up he rested his head on Damian’s shoulder. He rested his head on Damian’s shoulder.
Damian tensed; not particularly because he was unpleasant or uncomfortable with the contact, more or so because he was simply confused. Confused wasn’t a great word to describe this situation; if anything perplexed or stumped fit better. He wasn’t expecting it, and yet, in a way, it felt natural.
“And you’re truly a good friend.” Jonathan shrugged, finishing his burger and licking his fingers clean of ketchup and mustard, then wiping his spit clad hands on his wrinkled jeans.
“I pushed you off this same roof literally yesterday.” Damian deadpanned, and Jonathan laughed, playfully hitting Damian in the arm-
“Ow.”
“Sorry, I didn’t actually hurt you, right?” Jonathan asked, his laughter dying down for a moment to look up at Damian; his brows furrowed and mouth twisted into an apologetic smile, rubbing the back of his neck. Damian shook his head, because obviously if he’d truly been hurt by said punch, he’d probably be doubling over in pain. Maybe.
“Please, like I’d let a small fly like you harm someone like me.” Damian laughed, sarcastic and cut off, unlike Jonathan’s own. Jonathan let out a long dramatic groan, standing up from the roof, and putting his hands on his hips. Damian already knew where this was going, of course.
“Oh mimimi, look it’s me, Robin, I can fight and kill anyone!” Jonathan mocked, in an unironically and annoying high pitched voice.
“I do not sound like that,” Damian scowled, but Jonathan put his finger in the air, shaking it back and forth, laughing, a wide smile on his face.
“Oh you totally do, Dami, you’re all like-” Jon cleared his throat, sticking his hair all the way back, nearly making Damian snicker at his poor hairline; Then he stuck two of his fingers in the air, putting said fingers on the side of his head.
“Mimimimi, and.. mimimi.” Jonathan said, before laughing and collapsing in the ground, kicking his legs back and forth like what he’d just done was one of the funniest things in the world; and, it wasn’t, at all, in fact Damian’s sure he’s heard Richard make better jokes, and Richard’s jokes are terrible.
“Actually, that’s Batman.” Damian grimaced, standing up and crossing his arms, “At least I’m not all like,” Damian cleared his throat, before speaking again.
“Hi! I’m Superboy and I don’t have common sense or human decency when it comes to manners!” Jonathan let out a dramatic shocked noise, his laughter lashing midway as he fumbled back up, nearly tripping over himself. He shook his head, and scoffed, though a large smirk relaxed on his face.
“I sound nothing like that now-” Jonathan said, before he realized, or what Damian thinks he realized; he realized that Damian had basically insulted him and mocked him in the same sentence.
“I do too have human decency!” Jonathan shouted, his face turning red with embarrassment, Damian laughed, rolling his eyes, and shaking his head dismissively, his arms still crossed.
“Titus has more human decency than you, and he’s a dog.”
“Any living and breathing animal in your household is barely an animal anymore!” Jonathan barked out, blinking at Damian, his eyes wide, and ears red with what Damian is going to assume is amusement, (why would it be anger?) and for a moment, they both look at each other, before bursting into laughter.
“What does that even mean?” Damian asked between small fits of laughter, gasping for air again, a large smile on his face as Jonathan struggled more than him, barely able to speak himself. Jonathan shrugged, knocking his head against the ground accidentally, making a comedic ‘thung’ sound that somehow managed to make them laugh louder.
Of course, all good things come to an end. Not that this was the end of their “ friendship” or anything, it was just nearing night. The sun was setting, and the moon was moving in, it’s bright white shine taking over the sun’s overbearing light, replacing the once warm air with a small chill.
Shadows overcast, the night shining and mixing together with both the light from the moon and the city below; Damian was glad that he was able to patrol in Metropolis. The sky, compared to Gotham, was beautiful. If anything, it was breathtaking. It reminded him of home , the stars, different and unique constellations in the sky, whispers of stories and hero’s lying in their wake.
“I think I like this guy,” Jonathan suddenly says, after a long silence, his hands are clasped together, and he’s swinging his feet back and forth over the ledge of the busking, his brows creased, as if he was afraid of Damian’s answer. As if Damian, of all people, wouldn’t accept him.
“Who?” Damian asked, his tone leveled and devoid of shock.
“You wouldn’t know 'em’,” Jonathan shrugged, and Damian slowly nodded, looking at Jonathan for a moment, before sighing and looking back up at the moon.
“I’m sure he’s..” Damian trailed off, rousing his lips as he struggled to find words, “I’m sure he’s a very appealing person if you of all people like this ‘guy’.” Damian said. There it is again, that word, ‘like’ . That word meant something different to Jonathan, it didn’t mean the same thing to Damian as it did him.
“Actually-” Jonathan starts again, sitting up, and looking towards the moon as well, “I don’t think I like him, Dami.” Jonathan sighs, bringing his knees to his chest, brows furrowed and his usual smile is twisted into a frown, his gaze hauntingly looking at the bright glowing white orb in the sky.
“I think I love him.” Jon said, and Damian regrets the small ‘oh,’ noise he kept out in slight surprise. He cleared his throat, biting back the urge to fiddle with his hands like some nervous teenager taking exams. This was fine. This was nothing, why was he so nervous about Jon speaking of someone he loved?
“That’s nice.” Damian nonchalantly answered, and Jon looked over at him, a look reading something along the lines of what Damian’s going to assume is ‘Jon talk’ for asking advice.
“You think I know anything about love?” Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes. He was getting defensive. Why was he getting defensive? He shouldn’t be defensive. Jonathan is just asking for advice, as Damian has and will continue doing his elder brothers, Jonathan is trying to confide in him.
“That’s Todd the sods job.” Damian says, grumbling something under his breath. Something hurts; something is twisting itself deep into his heart, yanking his heartstrings and harder and harder trying it’s hardest to pull them out as one would the plug in a hospital. It hurt so much; but why? Jonathan loving someone had nothing to do with him, if anything, he should be happy for his “friend,”
“Damian, please.” Jonathan says, and Damian feels that too- he knows what’s hurting. He doesn’t know why it’s hurting but it does. It’s not physical, but it makes his stomach twist into uncomfortable knots and makes him sick. It makes him want to cry, a feeling that he long ago had stopped having for anything so childish.
“I know nothing of love.” Damian says, his voice sounds far away, like an echo. The words empty and spill from his mouth without his consent; they pour and pour until there’s simply nothing else but him, he’s rung dry. He doesn’t like this.
“You’ve never been in love?” Jonathan asked, as if it were something shocking.
“No.” Damian answers, nearly shrugging but he stops himself from doing so. Instead he breathes, settles his thoughts, and relaxes his tense shoulders. He looks at Jon, then at the moon again, before speaking up.
“It would be a surprise if he didn’t like you,” And when he said that, Jonathan looked at him like it was one of the greatest things anyone had ever said to him in his life. His frowned quite literally turned upside down, and his voice was childish like, as if in awe.
“You mean it?” He asks, and Damian nods, because, who couldn’t love Jonathan? Who could be around him for more than a few hours a day and not grow to love his smile? Or his eyes, or dare he even say grow, in a way attracted to his mannerisms. It hurt. No wonder it hurt; Damian was the moon, and Jonathan was the sun. If Damian were the one he liked he’d only dim Jonathan’s light.
Jon deserved light. He deserved light because he was and is light. Jonathan doesn’t deserve Damian because Damian would overcrowd that light, would narrow it out in a sea of hundreds and stomp it out until there was barely a sliver of it yet. He wouldn’t mean to; he wouldn’t want to. But it would happen, because Damian is Damian, and Jonathan is, well, Jonathan.
“Always.” He answered, and Jonathan smiled impossibly wider, shooting up like a bullet and wrapping his arms around Damian’s middle, nearly crushing him from the tight embrace. It hurt. It hurt because no matter what Damian thought of Jon, no matter how much he ‘liked’ Jon, Jonathan would not return that likeness. And it hurts.
“You ever realize how pretty the moon is?” Jonathan hummed, minutes later, still hugging onto Damian, paying no mind to the action.
Damian bit the inside of his cheek, his face growing hot, his eyes getting warm; it hurt to swallow. Every breath dealt as if it was shaky and drawled out, he felt as if he were going to faint, and everything hurt. Damian pursed his lips, shoving Jonathan away from him, “You were hugging me for too long, I got uncomfortable.” He says, and Jonathan just nods.
They both stand there, neither of them know why, for at least several minutes just stargazing. They're not speaking, not looking at each other, before Damian speaks up again, adjusting his grapple hook, and lacing up his green boots again, his brows knitted together, his mouth pulled into a small frown.
“You know what, corn boy?” Damian huffs, standing back up, while looking towards Jonathan, who’s looking straight back at him.
“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”