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People circled about the enormous ballroom. Cocktail hour was the most awkward display of bravado Jon had ever seen. Bruce had invited the Kents to the past couple years of parties, much to the relief of his kids who were usually forced to attend whether or not there was anyone within a ten year range of them.
At this point, it was more of a rotating circle of who showed up, with most of the Waynes out of the house, it was more likely to find Clark and Jon Kent wining and dining with Gotham's elite. Of course, occasionally the others could be found when expensive food and drink was plentiful.
Jon and Damian parked themselves on the edge of the room, Jon running his fingertips along Damian’s arm as he picked at his plate of horderves. “You Waynes clean up nice, huh?”
“Hm?”
He sighed out like steam escaping a kettle. Damian followed his gaze. “I mean, I knew Nightwing was fine, but Dick Grayson in a suit and tie is your socialite brother from another mother.” He slung his arms around Damian playfully.
Jon waited for a response from Damian, but it never came. He finally turned to look back at the other, but he wouldn’t meet Jon’s eyes.
“Hey, Dame, I was just saying–”
Damian was lost in thought, staring clear in the opposite direction. He tugged at his tie that was digging into his neck. “Yeah, yeah sure. I’m going to make sure father has everything in order with the band–”
“I can come with you.” He reached an arm out for his boyfriend as he blatantly left their conversation.
“You seem preoccupied as it is, I won’t keep you.”
“Dami– You’re mad?” He might have used the slightest super speed to get in front of him, but to the naked eye he merely picked up pace. His eyes turned wide and he did the “stupid puppy dog face” Damian always fell for. All the time until now.
“I don’t want to deal with you right now.”
Jon was flustered. He’s never meant anything malicious by mentioning Dick, if anything it was a joke to lighten the stress the event put on all of them. But now Damian wasn’t looking at him, wasn’t softening to his touch, was about to swat at him when Jon put his foot down.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything. Your brother is hot Wayne, that’s just an objective observation. It was meant as a joke.”
“You’re drooling like a fucking hound dog.” He would never strike Jon, but on occasion, Damian spoke with his hands better than his mouth. He pushed away from Jon’s hold, who had the tendency to try and fix every disagreement with a hug. “You don’t drool over me.”
“That’s the issue? You think I am more smitten with him than you?” Jon’s tone shifted. Making Damian mad was one of his strong suits. It was remarkably easy with his tendency to annoy and Damian’s tendency to lose his patience. He was having fun now, but it was clear Damian didn’t feel the same.
“Yeah. It’s not exactly awesome having my boyfriend have a hard-on for my big brother.”
Jon paused his efforts in trying to keep Damian in his hold. Instead, they both sort of blanked in the moment, Damian embarrassed at what he had said and Jon frozen. He let out a soft snort as he kept looking at Damian.
Damian’s brows narrowed. It was clear as day, even more than when he wore his domino mask and the white parts became like slits whenever Jon said something particularly stupid. He shook his head to himself. “Jon you’d better stop fucking laughing at me I’m already pissed and I’m trying to be rational because you tell me I overreact but—”
“Damian.” Jon grabbed both of his hands and tugged him until his attention centered on him. He dragged him past the partitions and tucked them around the corner. He leaned forward so Damian was pressed against the wall. “If you think I don’t have exponential amounts of dirty thoughts about you on the daily, you’re not as much of a genius as you claim to be. I am enraptured by you. I am completely entirely at your mercy every second you look at me with those gorgeous eyes of yours. I’d rip off your clothes with my teeth right in the middle of this place if it wouldn’t cause such a stir, the Wayne kid buck naked on the gala floor.”
Damian shook in his hold. He wasn’t sure if it was anger, fear, or sheer anticipation, but he was barely in control of his own faculties at the moment. Jon however, seemed perfectly fine, like always.
“Your brother is attractive Dami, I have eyes, but–” Jon pressed forward with his hand at the base of Damian’s neck, curling his body closer than he thought possible. “I wished to be consumed by you entirely, body and soul, bound to you with no reprieve, like you’re my only water in the desert.” He kissed up his neck.
“Jon–” Damian wanted so badly to give in, but he wouldn’t let himself.
“Damian Wayne.” Jon practically whimpered into his ear.
“Jonathan Kent, stop it.”
“What?” Jon pulled away abruptly, though it was clear he still believed he was in the right.
“You’re making fun of me.” Damian’s face flushed.
“No the fuck I’m not.” He leaned closer, but didn’t touch Damian’s skin again. Instead, he waited for the other to finally hear what he had been saying.
Jon didn’t really swear. He had gotten more used to it with Damian, but he could tell from the look on his boyfriend’s face, the gesture had finally gotten through. He reached out for Damian’s hand.
“Damian– I would do anything for you. I love you. I love you more than anything on Earth. I don’t drool over you in your face because I am lucky enough to have you here with me in my arms and not pining from across the ballroom, like I did for years, mind you. It’s always been you, Dames, even when you hated me and couldn’t bear spending a moment in my company. I have never doubted you and me together.”
Damian softened. “You were never across the room. You’ve always been by my side.”
“And I’m not changing that for anything.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I shouldn’t have ogled your brother.” He ran a hand through Damian’s hair. “I’ll only ogle you from now on.”
The blush that flooded Damian’s face should have dispersed by now, but he could hear the way Jon’s voice sounded saying his name like that, his hands on Damian’s skin. “Did you say you were going to strip me on the ballroom floor?”
“No, Love, I didn’t grow up a billionaire, but I still have far too many manners for that. Later however, whose to say?”