Chapter Text
Damian first met Jonathan Samuel Kent after an attempt of kidnapping him, an attempt not because he hadn't been successful, but rather because the boy had been rescued just a few hours after the fact. Clark Kent had been enraged, his father had tried to defend him, they argued a lot; until finally, they looked at them and for some reason Damian still didn't understand to this day, they went: "Yes, they can be friends." Not exactly what happened, not word for word, but Damian had a few issues trying to remember that day after Jon had punched him right in the face, not his fault Superman's kid wasn't trained or prepared to the act of kidnapping. If the kid ever wanted to be a superhero just like his father, then he would have to learn how to act in those type of situations. Grandfather had teached Damian way before he even reached the age of five, even his father and mother had told him all he needed to know about his safety and how to act during the act of being kidnapped by someone or a group of people, in plural.
Superman's son hadn't even seen Damian Wayne coming. And the Justice League just accepted him with open arms? He was incompetent, a possible threat to everyone's safety, nothing but a mere child that did not have any idea of how his powers worked. A safety hazard, but Father didn't seem to think the same, he had been there, apparently, when Jonathan had been born. Father was, after all, Superman's best friend, a best friend Damian did not approve of. What was the point of his family seemingly having so many kryptonian friends? They were useful, yes, part of the Justice League, most of them, but that didn't mean they had to interact constantly.
Like Father did with Superman and Drake did with the clone, even Todd had gone as far as befriending the polar opposite of Superman; Bizarro. And he still said Damian was the craziest one out of the entire family. The audacity of him.
All of that, the kidnapping, his father suddenly having some kind of severe concussion, because nothing else could ever explain that behavior to him; lead him to this.
Being right here, in this very moment, with Jonathan Samuel Kent, who Father and Superman went as far as to call him the new "Superboy." He wasn't even qualified to be a vigilante, let alone take a mantle that held such importance to the community of heroes, he was unworthy. And Damian Wayne, the latest Robin, a mantle that had been handed to him by Richard Grayson himself, was supposed to be here right now? With him? With a boy that smelled like grass and moist, who had a big grin on his face and seemed to be overjoyed at the idea of being a superhero, like all of this was just a game to him.
Damian al Ghul Wayne didn't hate him, but he disliked him so much it almost crossed the line of hatred. If only Timothy Jackson Drake hadn't gotten there first, then Jon would be first on the list. What a shame.
"This is like, super cool! I mean, I don't really like you, sorry, but I really respect Batman and, even if his son is kind of... A jerk? I think I can handle this!" Jonathan said, excitedly, like he hadn't just called Damian Wayne, the grandson of the Demon's head, a jerk. "I mean, I think we can..."
He stopped listening, you see, whatever Damian had said before, he took it all back now, Jonathan Kent was first, Timothy Jackson Drake had finally been surpassed. He was no longer taking first place in Damian Wayne's hate list, Richard would be proud of him.
"This is not cool. This is not a game. This is not supposed to be fun." Kent's smile disappeared and Damian ignored the satisfaction he felt from seeing that smile finally fall from that idiotic face of his. "This is a mission. We're on patrol. Father expects us to handle everything perfectly, I do not wish to disappoint him."
Jonathan sighed and Damian raised an eyebrow at him. Why was Superman's son looking at him like that? What did that look on his face even meant? He did not like when he didn't understand how other people felt.
He was supposed to be able to read their bodies and facial manners perfectly, exactly the way his mother and his grandfather taught him. But, in moments like these, he didn't understand; he didn't understand why Richard looked at him and smiled so much, he didn't understand why Drake looked at him these days and just shrugged, like Damian hadn't tried to kill him, he didn't understand Cassandra Cain, who could read everyone in the family, but no one could read her in return. And he definitely did not understand Jonathan Samuel Kent.
A boy whose life seemed so... Simple. Everything about him seemed simple. Evetything about him screamed average.
Yet, Father thought he was worthy enough of being able to work with Damian. Why?
He didn't understand, he didn't think there would be a way he could ever understand this properly.
"Dude, this is just a simple patrol, not even a mission, my dad told me this is just to check if we can be a team! They wouldn't put us in danger. All we have to do is scream my dad's name and boom, we're out of whatever trouble we got in."
Kent's father was an idiot if he genuinely thought the average kid he had for a son didn't scream trouble once you laid eyes upon him. Superman was known for being a goody two shoes, according to Todd, whatever those words meant, he didn't know, but he understood the meaning of them; but, for some reason, he didn't think this new Superboy was the same.
Everything about him screamed trouble and safety hazard.
"Your dad will not always be there to save you, Superboy." Damian spat out the name like it disgusted him to say the word out loud, because it did. It truly did. "If you wish to become a superhero, then you must learn how to become independent. You have to learn how to rely on yourself first and then, perhaps, others. But your dad might not always make it."
Father didn't. Most of the time he did, but the few times he hadn't had been... Unpleasing, to say the least.
If only a sword going through his chest, two years before he even met Jonathan, had been proof enough of it.
Not his father's fault, but his own, he had been impulsive, he had left the manor when he wasn't supposed to.
Who's to say this new Superboy wouldn't do the same someday? And Superman might not even be there. At least Father had been, holding him tight when Damian faded away in his arms.
Just like how he held Todd after the explosion.
"I mean, probably not, but... Isn't that the whole reason we're a team?" He said and Damian raised his head, he didn't even realize he was no longer looking at him. Green eyes met those blue orbs for the first time and he stood still, he was listening this time, even if he refused to admit it out loud. "To have each other's backs? It's not like we're alone, are we? You don't like me and I don't like you either, but... That doesn't mean we're going to let something happen to the other, right?"
"You don't even know how to use your powers properly." Damian retorted, even if, deep down, he knew there was a reason they were a team, after all. Even Father didn't work alone and he was Batman, he had Damian, he had the whole family, he even had Alfred. Even the Justice League. But how would he know if this boy was reliable? A worthy teammate? How could he know if he was to be trusted when he didn't even know him? "You couldn't help me, not even if you tried. Which means you cannot be trusted."
"Damian..."
"No names in the field!" The son of Bruce Wayne finally snapped. He didn't know why he felt so, so angry, he just did. Superman's kid acted like everything was so easy, he needed a reality check. And if Clark Kent wasn't going to give him one, then maybe Damian was the one who would have to do it. "See what I mean? You are incompetent! An imbecile! Did your dad even teach you the rules?! That's basic field knowledge!"
This time, the younger boy didn't say anything. He lowered his head and avoided returning Damian's intense, emerald stare. Robin couldn't help but find that odd, it seemed like Kent always had something to say, good or bad, he seemed like a boy who never stopped talking. Why now? Why stop now? Not the first time Damian had insulted him, not the first time he had straight up told him how unworthy of the title he currently held he found him to be.
But then again, Father would say he was being... Mean.
'Mean' didn't exist in the League, but here... Things were different, Jonathan Samuel Kent was a normal kid, he wasn't like Damian, he...
"Maybe I am." Jonathan said and Damian stared at him, shutting his mouth for once. Jonathan didn't appear to be feeling bad, he seemed alright, not discouraged, not sad, like other kids had been when Damian spoke to them. He just seemed neutral, like Damian's attitude hadn't affected him at all. Like he didn't care. "You're right, I dunno how to use my powers. The first time I got them, I..."
The youngest Wayne raised an eyebrow, but Jonathan Samuel Kent apparently refused to elaborate any further. The ten year old boy only sighed and raised his head, finally returning Damian's heated gaze. "I messed up, that's all. But I really wanna be a superhero, I wanna help people, the way dad does! Even my mom is like a superhero to me. She doesn't have powers, but she helps people. Isn't that what your dad does, too?"
It was. Not exactly that way, not exactly the way Lois Lane did, but Bruce Wayne and Batman alike, because they were the same person; helped people, wearing the cowl or not. That was the point of most of the galas he hosted at Wayne Manor, anyway, to help people, the poor and the sick, the weak and he wanted his blood son to do the same. Damian wanted to do the same.
He just didn't know how, not yet.
Maybe Jonathan didn't know, either. Damian understood that, that didn't mean he liked him, but... He understood, in more ways than not, he did.
That was the first time of many, neither of them knew that at the time, but they would.
Eventually.
"While I understand what you are saying, I still expect the best of you when we are here. If I'm expected to have a teammate... Then I will only hold you in high expectations shall you meet them."
The younger boy laughed. "Sounds like a deal to me, also, do you always speak like that?"
The tanned young boy raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "Like what?"
"Nevermind, then. I think I wanna live another day!"
Superboy said as he laughed and took off flying.
Or, at the very least, he tried to do so.
Clearly that was another part of his superpowers that hadn't still been polished or trained. Because Superman's son fell right off the building they were in and crashed against the asphalt with a loud, cracking sound.
Damian Wayne, only twelve years old at the time, sighed and rubbed his temple as he approached the edge of the building and looked down.
There he was, seemingly okay, he was invulnerable, after all... Mostly, taking into consideration that a mere nosebleed after such a nasty fall was considerably nothing compared to the injury a normal human would have gotten for such an idiotic action.
A norman human would be dead or, at the very least, paralyzed.
"Superboy! Status?" He asked only because he knew that was the protocol, but from this angle, his new idiotic partner seemed to be fine.
"It's just a nosebleed! Still gotta control how to fly..."
A nosebleed. Half kryptonian that still didn't know how to fly and was currently having a lot of blood coming out of his nose.
His partner.
Not even the clone was as incompetent.
Damian al Ghul Wayne really hoped this partnership was temporary.
It hadn't been temporary.
But as time passed, he got used to it, to him, to Superboy's presence, it wasn't like he had a choice, Father and Superman had made it clear they needed to be partners for reasons Damian didn't understand at all, apparently, Jon didn't, either. But at the very least, they found a common ground, they still argued, a lot. Damian Wayne still found his presence extremely displeasing and Drake hadn't still been promoted from his list, he still held second place, but... He could have had a worse partner, he thought. As Jon learned how to use his powers and how to work with him, with Batman's son, it soon became clear that they could work well, if the circumstances were right. Jon, no matter how much he complained about Robin being 'bossy', always listened, always had his back, just as promised, even if the older boy hadn't believed him at first, more often than not, Jon was always there.
If Robin fell, Superboy was there to catch him.
If a bullet had been shot, Superboy was there to take it for him.
After a few months, Jon's invulnerability had finally reached its peak and he no longer got hurt whenever they were together, patrolling or going on a mission, it no longer mattered. At least Damian didn't have to see his idiot of a partner get a nosebleed from attempting to fly off a building, unsuccessfully. At least he appeared to be useful now, even if he couldn't shut his mouth most of the time, Damian... Thought his voice wasn't as annoying anymore. The youngest son of Bruce Wayne thought he must have been suffering from Stockholm syndrome after being forced to partner with the boy who was two years younger than him. That was the only explanation he found reasonable as to why he suddenly tolerated his presence and his voice, whenever they were together.
And that, of course, must have been the only reasonable explanation Damian had as to why Jon was currently in the Wayne manor, not patrolling, not wearing his Superboy clothes, he was just there, dressed as a civilian, in Damian's personal bedroom. Eating Pennyworth's famous cookies. They weren't supposed to be together after patrolling, but, if Father had wanted so badly to force the younger boy's presence upon him... Well, it had worked. Because now, they were together even when they weren't supposed to be. It was... Tolerable, not ideal, but tolerable enough that he didn't complain about it.
Much.
Father said Damian needed to spend time around other kids, kids that were his age, that Jon could prove to be a good example to him, he still didn't understand how, but... If Richard and Father had said so, he wanted to at least try. He knew that, Jon, for all his faults, he did try, even if more often than not he called the youngest Wayne a jerk.
It wasn't like he held back, either.
"I didn't know you painted." Jon broke the silence in the room as he suddenly got off Damian's bed and approached one of the walls, looking at a painting that, even if he hadn't wanted to do so, Richard had pinned. He claimed the painting had been a masterpiece; the youngest Wayne wasn't so sure, it was a painting of Titus and Alfred the Cat, standing side by side, looking straight at the person who stared at the painting.
Because, at the time, they had been staring right at Damian. And even if Damian Wayne didn't understand people, not quite, he understood animals in a way most people didn't.
What he felt towards Titus and Alfred was more than what he had ever felt when he was in the League. That, of course, also included his other pets, but they hadn't been there at the time he decided to paint them. He had other paintings of them, but most of them were in the closet, not hanging on the walls for everyone that entered his room to see.
"And what did you think I do, then?" The boy with eyes that resembled emeralds asked, raising an eyebrow as he saw the way Jon stared at the painting.
Like he was amazed.
"I dunno, stabbing dummies in the Batcave? It's nice to know that you have hobbies, too. And this is a really good painting." Jon smiled softly and Damian's hardened gaze softened. "Do you play videogames, Damian?"
He did not, but Drake did, a lot. He knew Richard and Todd joined him sometimes, they played a game called Mario Kart that he never tried because he wasn't sure how, he was supposed to be good at everything he did, but they were good and he wouldn't be. He didn't like doing things when he wasn't good at them, he didn't like failing, especially not when so many people held him in such high expectations.
This was not the League, he was aware of that, but it was... Rather complicated to get that stuck into his head after so many years of discipline and training.
Not like that stopped his family from trying.
They wanted Damian Wayne to experience a normal childhood, hence why Father thought Jon would be a good friend to him.
They were not friends, not even close, but his presence was... Tolerable, not so unpleasant anymore.
"I do not."
"You should. They're fun." Superman's son kept looking at the painting and then, he smiled, his gaze went towards Damian. "Wanna try?"
The older boy hesitated, but then he thought of Father's words, about how everyone expected him to get along with Jon. He thought of how Jon stared at his painting and smiled, about how much fun people his age seemed to have playing videogames.
And so, he agreed.
That day, Damian Wayne discovered he shouldn't have been worried at all.
He was good at videogames, too.
He was a quick learner, so much that even the younger boy seemed surprised when Damian won another match against him, for the third time in a row.
"Crap. Why are you so good at this? You haven't even played Smash before! This is so unfair..."
He also discovered videogames were, indeed, fun.
Especially when he was the one winning.
Oh, how he loved winning, especially against the Kent kid.
That was, without him even knowing, the first time of many they would play videogames together.
The first time of many Jon would stay inside his room without even bothering to ask for permission.
Even if he didn't know that yet.