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Jon awoke from a sleepless slumber, his head fuzzy and mouth dry, white lenses met his blue eyes. The figure held a needle in one hand and a scalpel in the other a sinister smile was plastered on his face. It all deteriorated from there, Jon broke out he fought with his captor and then his dad and Batman showed up, stopping their scuffle, introduced the boys. His name was Damian, the new Robin, and Jon hated him.
Damian thought he was the best, thought himself so smart and unfortunately he was. Jon had one word to describe him, obnoxious. Damian thought he could boss Jon around, tell him what to do, just because he was older. Yeah, well it didn't matter cuz Damian was short! So Jon had won that round.
Damian was, well, he was amazing. He could do so much, knew so much, had seen too much. Jon kind of pitied him, but then Damian would do or say something so annoying and Jon just had to punch him. They were friends now, even though the other kid wouldn't admit it. It didn't matter, Jon had enough friendship power for the both of them! Someone had to keep him in line, teach him how to be a kid just like him.
Damian's eyes were so green, bright, yet deep. His life had been sad, he hadn't had enough hugs, enough head pats, Jon gave him plenty. He really liked seeing Damian relax around him, talk to him about his likes and dislikes, he liked helping Damian rescue animals. It was never boring with him around and it always felt special when he gave Jon one of those rare but genuine smiles. The type that he only shared with Dick, he wished that he were the only one Damian would smile at, but it was okay because he was Nightwing, his brother.
Then it happened.
Jon left on a trip with his grandfather, that turned out to be a mistake. He had been trapped, tortured, filled with anger and loneliness. It had been the worst seven years of his life. He hoped that no one had forgotten about him, hopped that Damian still thought of him. Jon did. He thought of Damian a lot, of his green eyes, his snarky attitude, his lithe body and graceful moves, his intelligence. Did Damian ever feel this lonely, this angry? When he got back, Jon promised himself to give Damian even more affection, to let him know how special he was.
Returning had gone about as well as he thought it would.
His Mom looked older, Ma used a cane to help her walk, Dad had a bit of gray at his temples and Jon had a grave, right next to Pa. There was a lot of crying, a lot of apologies, a lot of warm hugs, hugs he had sorely missed. Regardless, he was excited to see everyone else, to find out what they had been up to, but most of all he wanted to see Damian, to hold him, tell him that he had been missed.
Following Damian’s heartbeat, what he saw instead was him in the embrace of another, lips touching someone else's, hair mussed. Would burning those lips that dared touch what was his be enough? Would disintegrating her be too much? Squeezing her head until it popped, brain matter leaking through his fingers, would it assuage the rage?
Jon shattered the window to the small apartment, a female cry of surprise, Damian crouched in a ready stance for a fight. His eyes widening and the whisper of, "Jon?" Distracted him from the object of his ire, of the half naked young woman reaching for a weapon.
Damian's voice was like music, like balm, like cold water to a burn. He drifted towards him, Damian standing on shaky legs, face pale. Jon nodded at him, smile bright, the one he knew he liked. A weapon bounced off him, Damian yelled at the other occupant, Jon did not look away from the green eyed young man.
He had grown, beautiful, strong, taller than expected but still shorter than Jon and it brought him a sense of relief that at least some things didn't change. Damian's hair was a bit longer, he would enjoy playing with it, he thought absently as the two in front of him argued, fought and the lady left in a huff.
Good riddance, there was no room for her here.
Jon rushed towards Damian, squeezing him in his embrace, weeping. He had missed him so much, told him so, told him of everything he had gone through. Damian did the same, but he tried to keep the tears at bay, tried to give off a strong front. Jon would chip at that wall, would break it if he had to, melt it until it was nothing.
Jon belonged to Damian, he just needed to show him, to prove that there was nothing better than to be cradled in Jon's hands, to understand that no one else deserved each other more.
One day, they wouldn't know where one began and the other ended, they would entwine like a finely woven lace, intricate and beautiful.