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Not that Damian Wayne had ever been afraid of anything in his life.
Raised by the League of Assassins, trained by the best and deadliest masters his mother could afford, and blessed with the life and love of his father and family, Damian had been able to understand his place in the world and find people who loved him for who he had always been, giving him the strength to face every deep-seated fear of the human soul and showing him what it really meant to have someone by your side. So, no, Damian wasn't exactly afraid of the feelings that were beginning to grow in his heart, but he couldn't understand them, and that frightened him.
Over the years, he had learned to put the good of others before his own, and he had understood what it meant to sacrifice himself for someone he loved, although he admitted that this had also happened thanks to the friendship he had formed with Superboy, better known as Jonathan Samuel Kent, Superman's son. And that was where his concern lay, when he thought about it. As much as he had learned to think of others outside himself, as much as he had understood that the world didn't revolve around him and that it was always worth fighting for a better world, making peace with his feelings was something Damian was still learning; the steps he took always seemed too short, every change stirring his soul, his hands sweating more than they should when he thought about it, and he wasn't used to those sensations, aware of what they could really mean. Was that why he was subconsciously afraid of them? He wasn't sure, and maybe he didn't even want to think about it, which was why he had immediately offered to go out on patrol without thinking twice.
The biting cold of the night had helped to relax his mind: it had been nice to concentrate for a moment on the sounds and colours of the city, so alive at this time of year, with the myriad of people milling about the streets doing last-minute shopping or having fun on the skating rink in Vernon Plaza; the snowflakes falling lightly and the coloured lights of the lights and signs made Gotham seem completely different from any other night of the year, and Damian had learned to appreciate those moments that gave the illusion of being in a completely different city; it was nice and relaxing to watch those people, to check from the top of a building or the top of a gargoyle that everything was all right, that nothing was disturbing the festive atmosphere that could be breathed together with the cold evening air, and Damian had also stopped to watch some couples lingering in front of the shop windows or walking hand in hand through the streets.
Damian imagined for a moment that he was there, changing into civilian clothes and walking through the streets of the city, lingering a little until his fingers touched Jon's hand; He thought about how 'normal' and beautiful it would be to be together after finally opening up to him, after revealing those feelings he had been harbouring for a few years now and had never had the courage to confess, and he dreamed of Jon's smile, he imagined the warmth of his hand in his and - and he also thought about the other side of the coin, that nothing would have changed even if he'd had the courage to confess. In fact, it might have been worse.
Jon may not have reciprocated these feelings. As much as Damian knew Jon's sexual preferences and that he liked men, it wasn't a given that Jon would like 'him'. They had always been just friends, they had always been there for each other, and Damian had never been afraid to say that he would do anything to keep Jon safe and out of danger - he had promised Superman himself that he would do it ten, hundred, an thousand times if necessary - but it had always ended there. Just friends and nothing more. Right? Right. Maybe that was why Damian kept quiet. He would rather keep a friendship that could last a lifetime than lose it over a moment of weakness. Or maybe he was just a coward who couldn't admit that he had been in love with his best friend for years.
"Did anyone order a veggie bat burger with jokerised fries?"
Damian heard the sudden voice behind him and jumped a little, too deep in his thoughts; but he recovered quickly enough to hide a smile in the crease of his lip as he turned and looked up, where Jon's figure was hovering a few metres above the roof Damian was on. "I didn't think I had to tell you, every time, to warn before you did these things."
"And I didn't think I'd have to hear the same complaint every time, when you know I never miss an opportunity to share a sandwich with you."
Oh, sweet, naive Jonathan. Damian loved that side of him too, but he would never admit it. He could barely admit to feeling anything, let alone suddenly appearing at the most inopportune moment. "You know, I'm getting a bit tired of that attitude of yours," Damian teased as he put down his binoculars, and Jon laughed, sinking down next to him with his legs crossed.
"Sure, sure. Ask me again in a few years when we're both grumpy as our parents and teasing each other," Jon said, poking him in the side, and Damian pushed him away with a mock gesture of annoyance before taking off his mask.
"I hate you."
"Happy to hear that," Jon teased, using his usual phrase, then handed him a green wrapped sandwich. "I've got two, in case you get hungry. I wasn't sure how much work you'd be doing tonight."
Damian shrugged and took the sandwich. "It's a slow night," he said as he started to unwrap it. "Looks like the Christmas spirit has spread to Gotham's criminals."
"Well, that's a good thing, isn't it?"
"Maybe. Or maybe the Joker is hiding in the crowd, waiting for his moment to play a prank on everyone, or Crane is about to throw a canister of his fear gas, or Poison Ivy is ready to sprout her genetically modified plants in the snow and..."
"Whoa! Okay, Mr Kill the Christmas Spirit!" Jon stopped him, holding up both hands in surrender. "Let's just enjoy the burger, shall we?"
Damian gave a sarcastic half-smile, but agreed, taking a bite of his sandwich and looking back down at the hustle and bustle of people who looked like so many busy ants from up there. Jon's presence was warm and pleasant, in stark contrast to the cold air that stung Damian's nose and cheeks; even without the need to speak, it was comforting to know he was there and beside him, and Damian turned furtively to look at his absorbed face. Although Jon nibbled at his sandwich in silence, his gaze seemed lost in the sea of people that populated the streets, between families with children and couples smiling at each other and holding hands; Damian realised that Jon was smiling as he watched them and his heart skipped a beat, immediately drawing Jon's attention. The moments that followed were awkward, at least until the silence was broken by a breath neither of them had realised they were holding.
"Are you okay?" Jon asked and Damian frowned.
"Why the question?"
"I..." Jon cleared his throat in obvious embarrassment. "Your... well, your heart. You missed a beat in your heartbeat and..."
Right. Jon knew the sound of his heartbeat. But that didn't mean anything, did it? They were teammates, it was only natural for Jon to learn something like that. Damian shouldn't get his hopes up. "I'm fine." Damian realised he'd said that too bluntly and harshly, so he smiled slightly and added, "It just feels... good, seeing those people down there and knowing they're safe."
Those words seemed to be enough, for Damian could clearly see the way Jon's shoulders relaxed, shrugging as if a weight had been lifted from them. "Yes, it's beautiful," he agreed with a smile, and Damian was again lost in the contemplation of his face.
As a keen observer, it wasn't hard to see the changes in Jon's face: the dimple at the corner of his mouth when he lifted his lips, the twinkle in his eyes when he thought of something that made him feel good, the little crease that formed in the middle of his forehead when he concentrated, all made especially clear by the moon above them and the coloured lights that danced across his profile. Snow had piled up on the tips of his hair, but he didn't seem to mind, too busy watching the life flourishing metres below.
Had Jon ever known he was like this? He wasn't particularly good-looking, he wasn't a guy on the cover of People magazine or with high, sharp cheekbones that drove women crazy; he had a slightly crooked nose and freckles across most of his cheeks, a square jaw like his father's and shoulders too broad for the clothes he wore, and yet Damian believed he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in the entire universe. It was foolish to even think that, but Damian wanted to be a little foolish that night. He wanted to believe that the feelings he had wouldn't remain buried under the snowdrifts forever, that the cold he felt on his skin would no longer be felt in his heart, but he was still too scared to admit that he wanted that little bit more. He shook his head and turned his attention back to the road, the sandwich he had left half eaten and Jon's distracted chatter, but his stomach was knotted; it was absurd to think that someone like him, who had faced the most terrifying challenges and the most impossible enemies, was now afraid of simple feelings like love and wanting to spend his life with someone.
"That looks like a job for us," Jon suddenly blurted out and Damian followed the direction his finger pointed before putting his mask back on and zooming in on his lenses; he peered carefully and grinned with amusement at the sight of a small group of men who had taken advantage of the last minute shopping frenzy that had gripped half the city to slip into an alley and pick the lock of a warehouse to retrieve their "personal gifts".
"Santa Claus came early."
Damian stood up and cracked his knuckles, put on his mask and grabbing his grappling hook before literally diving down with Jon at his heels. A little action would keep his mind occupied, and he was glad some idiot had tried to pick something. They both slipped into the darkness of the alley, silent as shadows and hidden in the dim beams of light, coming up behind the men without making a sound; Damian watched as they chattered among themselves, trying to hurry for fear of being noticed – newbies? Probably, given the time it was taking them to pick a level one lock – then moved silently to knock one of them out, raising his arm to signal Jon to do the rest.
It was quite funny, actually: Jon had stood behind them with his arms crossed, suspended a few centimetres in the air, then leaned between them and said, "Maybe you should turn the lockpick the other way", causing them to jump; one of them had bumped into him as he turned, there had been a series of hurried sentences and rapid shots, which Jon had stopped with just one arm, knocking the biggest down before Damian had jumped on one of their shoulders and knocked him to the ground with the force of his legs alone; In less than five minutes, they had cleared the area and 'packed' those six near a streetlight, leaving the police to deal with the rest before heading back up, towards the sky, to the top of the world.
"Did you see their faces?" Jon laughed at the thought, brushing his hair back as he dropped into a sitting position on the edge of the Wayne Enterprises roof. "The tall one looked like he'd just seen a ghost."
"Maybe because he wasn't expecting to meet a big, angry Kryptonian."
"Hey, I wasn't angry. I was just putting on my tough face." Jon crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, his lips puffed out in a grimace that he thought was supposed to be as 'sexy' as Ben Stiller in 'Zoolander', but it made him look so stupid that Damian couldn't help laughing.
"Shut up, you idiot, you're ridiculous," he said, slapping him on the shoulder and sitting down next to him. "You need to perfect your performance."
"Oh, me? And you, covering half your face with your cloak and whispering 'I am Redbird, fear me'," he teased as he grabbed the edge of his own cloak and mimicked it, laughing out loud as Damian pushed him and he pretended to fall off, then hovered in front of him with his arms crossed. "You know, you're a bit sensitive."
"And you're a brat instead of a nineteen-year-old."
"Excuse me, Mr 'I'm almost twenty-one and I can drink legally'."
"That just emphasises that I am still the older."
"But I'm taller."
"You're such a child."
"Maybe, but..."
They both realised too late that with each retort Jon's face drew closer, and they remained staring at each other like two idiots a metre apart, suddenly silent as if neither of them had spoken until that moment; Damian clearly saw Jon swallow, his Adam's apple rising and falling several times in an almost unconscious gesture, the strange veil of embarrassment in his eyes and his pupils suddenly dilated, while his ears seemed to vibrate as if they had detected something. Perhaps it was Damian's heart, for he could feel it beating wildly in his chest; so wildly that he couldn't stop his own pounding, his eyes wandering from Jon's eyes to his mouth, and Damian involuntarily licked his lips, running his tongue over them in a gesture that seemed rather inappropriate to him.
"I..."
"Well..."
Shit, they looked like a couple of complete idiots. They just stared at each other without moving a muscle, and it was getting pretty awkward with their personal space reduced to the bare minimum and the position they were in, facing each other and him with his legs spread out on the ledge.
"Sorry," they said in unison, not really knowing what they were apologising for; Jon even pulled away a little, rubbing his neck in obvious discomfort before sitting down next to him with his hands hanging loosely on his thighs, not saying another word.
Perhaps the silence was worse than the chatter they had heard on the streets until that moment. Was there any way to end this awkward moment and pretend that nothing had happened? Damian wasn't sure. His heart was still beating wildly, he tried to take long breaths to calm it down and be as stoic as he had been until that moment, but it was difficult. Jon's scent was still in his nostrils, that mixture of aftershave and white musk soap he used to use, plus a hint of the pungent smell of hay and the atmosphere itself when he flew too high; It was the scent that had always characterised Jon, Damian had come to know it over the years and had seen it change with him, becoming more pronounced every time Jon broke the sound barrier or flew above the clouds and out of the world itself; it was the acrid smell of iron, of suspended particles and molecules, of water and sulphur that stuck to him, and smelling it so close had sent his brain into meltdown.
"Hey, look." Jon's voice suddenly broke the silence and Damian looked sideways to see him with his hands resting on the edge of the roof, his face turned towards the sky. He had smiled slightly to dispel the awkwardness that still lingered between them, even as he had moved closer to Damian, unconsciously or not. "The sun will be up soon."
It was true. Up there, in the sky that was beginning to turn a pale blue mixed with pink, just to the east, the morning star had begun to shine. And Damian had begun to think how ironic it was that just like Venus, Jon had also begun to be his "bringer of light" in this dark world he had always lived in... and even more ironic that in his language it was called Aṭ-Ṭāriq and meant "who knocks on the door" because Jon, as sappy as it sounded to say, had really knocked on the doors of his heart. But could he tell him? Oh, it seemed impossible to even imagine. It was stupid and pointless, so unlike him it was ridiculous, and yet it was so nice to believe it for a moment and share that moment with Jon.
"There's something I never told you," Damian said suddenly, realising he hadn't spoken until it was too late. Jon had already turned to him, curious, and now Damian had no idea how to get out of the situation he'd created. Maybe it was time to face his demons, but he still took a long time before he metaphorically put his hands to his face and sighed. "And I don't know how that would change our relationship, so I..."
Damian felt Jon place a hand on his shoulder, and it was as if a small sun had settled on his skin, protecting him from the early morning chill.
"Nothing could ever change that, D," Jon said, and Damian bit his lip before turning to look him straight in the eye, his expression so painful it made his heart ache.
"Don't make promises you can't keep, J."
"I've seen every side of you, D, every little nuance and shadow you've always tried to hide from everyone. But not from me." Jon's other hand slipped to his and he squeezed so gently that Damian looked at him in confusion, seeing something in his eyes he'd never realised had always been there. "What makes you think this will change the way I've always looked at you?"
"You will never be able to look at me the same way again."
"Try me."
Damian waited again, his heart pounding in his chest and he was sure that Jon hadn't missed a beat, he felt that hold grow firmer and more secure, a firm point in the cold where Damian himself had tried so hard to bury his feelings; perhaps it was that that gave him strength, that gave him the courage to finally open his heart and he slipped out of Jon's grip only to cupping his cheeks and looking him intently in the eyes. "I've never been good with words. It's easier to show you," he whispered as he leaned into Jon's face and swallowed.
Damian lingered with his lips a few inches from Jon's and Jon's hot breath crashing into his face, that moment suspended in time as if it had stopped around them. He was afraid that this step would ruin everything, that once the first moment of astonishment had passed, Jon would realise what was about to happen and pull away, but against every worst expectation that Damian had hypothesised in his mind, it was Jon himself who erased the small distance between them and barely touched his lips, a gesture that caused Damian to finally kiss him with passion; It wasn't what he'd expected, it wasn't a slow, tender kiss like the ones he'd seen in the movies - yes, he admitted to having seen a few of those with Grayson, let them sue him - it was a clash of mouths and teeth and awkward movements, an attempt to lean into each other to use up the air, to catch their breath and dive back into the folds of each other's lips, no longer holding back as they both seemed to have done until that moment.
It lasted too little, or maybe it lasted too long, but Damian felt suddenly dizzy as they finally separated, still hovering over each other's mouths; they said nothing, just took deep breaths to catch their breath, as if they had just emerged from the bottom of the ocean, until they burst out laughing, both grabbing their faces and resting their foreheads against each other.
"I thought you'd keep me waiting longer," Jon whispered, and Damian felt his cheeks heat up.
"What - you -"
"Yes, me."
"Why... why didn't you ever say so?"
"I could ask you the same thing."
Neither of them spoke for what seemed like an eternity, staring into each other's eyes as if trying to read the other's soul from the depths of their gaze alone, laughing again to release the tension that seemed to have built up between them; Damian even dared to rest his head on Jon's shoulder, finding it strangely natural and... comforting.
"Idiot."
"Never as much as you."
"I have my doubts." Damian paused, his eyes fixed on the now brightened sky above them, before taking a deep breath and licking his lips. "So... what are we now?"
"I don't know." Jon rubbed his neck in embarrassment, but smiled and wrapped an arm around Damian's hips, pulling him close to keep him warm in the early morning light. "But we can find out together," he said, and Damian had never been happier with those words.
Maybe the snow had begun to melt a little after all.