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Endless fields of unripe wheat. A cloudless blue sky stretching as far as the eye can see. The occasional house poking out of an otherwise flat terrain. Damian stared outside the car window and clicked his tongue. No wonder his father had declined to come; there were no shadows here to hide in, only light.
“What’s the matter?” Stephanie asked, an impish smile on her face as she poked his cheek. “Bored?”
“Of course not.” He swatted her hand away but that only made her laugh. “We shouldn’t be here.”
“Why?” From the driver’s seat, Tim glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. If Stephanie’s smile was teasing, his smirk was downright malicious. “Scared you’ll have fun?”
Damian crossed his arms. He would never for the life of him understand what his father saw in that fake Robin. No, it went deeper than that—what did he see in most of his proteges? Stephanie didn’t take anything seriously, Tim didn’t have the skills, Dick was too fun-loving, and Jason had no control. The only not disappointing one in the bunch was Cassandra, and Damian feared that one day the others would infect her as well. He should have gotten rid of them while he had the chance. “We should be training, Drake,” Damian replied, irritation leaking into his voice.
“An important part of training is taking breaks.” Stephanie poked his cheek again. He was going to break her finger one day. “It’s summer, school’s out, and Bruce and Dick have Gotham covered. We can have a little vacation, the world’s not going to destroy itself without us.”
“Without you, maybe,” Damian sneered. The effect was ruined as she pulled his cheek.
“Without us,” she repeated, still sporting that insufferable smile. “If it’s serious, they’ll call us. It’s not like the League doesn’t know where the Kent farmhouse is.”
Damian wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. Surely the most dangerous man in the planet should have his parents hidden somewhere secure, instead of having their name on file. Villains broke into the JLA all the time as it was; it wouldn’t be that long before someone stumbled upon this badly kept secret.
“You’re wasting your breath, Steph.” Tim shrugged, his eyes on the road. “He doesn’t know what a break is.”
From the front passenger seat, Cassandra gave Damian a sympathetic smile. She had been silent till now, more than content to just listen. Which was probably why he preferred her to the others; she wasn’t a blabbermouth like the others. “A break can help your body recover,” she offered.
At least that was practical advice for once. Damian leaned back in his seat. “I suppose.”
“You’re such a softie to her and Dick.” Stephanie leaned back into her seat, finally leaving him alone.
“It’s too bad Dick couldn’t come,” Tim sighed. “He could have muzzled the brat.”
“Well, while we’re meeting our favourite aliens, he’s got his own alien to meet.” Stephanie waggled her brows before she and Tim burst into a fit of laughter. Leaning forward, she rested a hand on Cass’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’ll share mine with you.”
“Okay?” Looking confused, Cassandra nodded.
“And Damian’s got Jon,” Tim chimed in, exchanging a look with Steph.
Wisely, Damian kept his mouth shut. With these two, almost any response he gave would only be ammo.
-x-
“Damian!”
He barely had time to turn around before Jon barreled into him, knocking him over. Landing flat on his back, Damian grunted as his breath rushed out of him. Jon had little restraint in the best of times, and almost none when he was emotional. Frowning at the mop of dark hair on his chest, he rolled his friend off. “Kent.”
“Kent,” Tim and Steph said at the same time and he didn’t have to see them to know they were wearing identical smiles.
“Damian!” Pushing himself off the ground, Jon shot him a grumpy look.
Quietly, Damian muttered, “Fine, Jon.”
The idiot duo cackled behind him and he wasn’t sure if Jon’s bright smile was worth it. Picking himself off the ground, Damian didn’t bother to dust off his clothes before hauling Jon up. “Where’s my room?” he asked, dragging Jon along as he headed to the main house. “And please tell me those two are sleeping in the barn.”
“Nah, they’ll be rooming with Conner and Kara, just like you’ll be with me.” Jon wrapped an arm around his back, almost skipping as they headed in. “It’ll be fun!”
Fun. That wasn’t the word he’d use for it. Perhaps he could at least sabotage their beds after this.
-x-
Balancing a dagger between his two fingers, Damian studied the target. It was perhaps one of the simplest targets he’d practiced with, a static bale of hay only 50 yards down. A single red x made of cardboard sat on the bale. There was no challenge in this. Still, some practice was better than none. Raising his hand behind him, Damian whipped his arm forward and tossed the dagger.
With a solid thwack, the dagger hit the target dead center.
As expected. Child’s play, really.
As though to cut into his preening, Jon applauded behind him. “Wow,” he cheered, his voice deadpan. “That was amazing.” Sarcasm dripped from his words as he hovered over the ground, giving Damian the most bored look possible.
“There’s nothing else here to use,” Damian sniped back, not appreciating the reaction. It figured this was the place the Supers called home, this land of sunlight. The Kents owned few weapons, if one could call them that. A shotgun, several farming tools, and an oddly sharp kitchen knife were their defenses of choice. Miraculously, no supervillains had dared to take over this quaint town, and he could only chalk it up to luck. Probably the same luck that allowed all the Supers to fly without a single neighbour to report them.
Not finished, Jon leaned forward, shielding his eyes with a hand. Fake squinting, he studied the target. “That’s, what, ten in a row? All in the same spot, somehow?” The scorn disappeared from his tone and Jon gave him a thumbs up. “That’s actually really cool.”
Cool was again not a word Damian would use but he accepted the compliment. “If I couldn’t do that much, I’d hang up my cape.”
“Right, right.” Jon landed on the ground next to him, clapping him on the back. “And you’re doing ten more of these?”
“I need to keep up the practice,” Damian muttered, distracted by the tingling in his back. It had been happening recently, at Jon’s point of contact, and he wondered if it was some uncontrolled Kyptonian strength running through his flesh. “Even if the practice is subpar.”
“Of course.” There was a mischievous twinkle in Jon’s eyes. “But you’re just going to get the same result. And it’s boring.”
Rankled, Damian pulled away. “Practice is not—”
“There’s more fun ways to practice instead.” Jon pounced, tackling him to the ground. “Let’s fight.”
Well, that was certainly something Damian could get behind. Flipping them over, he smirked. “You’re on.”
-x-
“So, Damian, was it?” Ma Kent smiled at him kindly as she exited the kitchen. The smell of cooked chicken wafted through the air, filling the dining room. In her hands was a bright, flowery plastic bowl filled with Brussel sprouts. “I heard a lot about you.”
Damian stared at her. The dining room was empty save for them—the others hadn’t yet come back from whatever wasteful endeavours they had planned and Jon was feeding Krypto. While he had begrudgingly accepted the fact that he’d have to eat dinner with everyone, there had better not be any expectations of conversation. He had planned to let Jon do all the talking, to cover up his silence, but that wasn’t possible right now. When Ma Kent smiled at him, he reluctantly replied, “I see.”
“Ahaha, got a way with words, I see.” Chuckling, she set down the bowl. A bowl that did not match any of plates. Actually, now that he was paying attention, none of the big serving bowls matched, all of them hideous plastic monstrosities. Noticing his scornful expression, she rubbed her neck sheepishly. “I know what you’re thinking. I used to use my good china whenever someone came, but after two dinner attacks and one food fight, I’ve learned my lesson. If the powers are out, my plates stay in.”
“I see.” Not that he had asked for clarifications. Not that he was curious in any way, shape, or form about it.
“You really do have only one mode.” Laughing, she returned to the kitchen. “Like father, like son. Glad the rest of your lot didn’t turn out like this; don’t think I could have handled that much grumpiness at my table.”
“I’m not grumpy,” he muttered under his breath.
“Man, Krypto was hungry tonight!” Jon tumbled in through the window, ecstatic. Catching Damian’s expression, he cocked his head. “What, did I miss anything?”
Resisting the urge to cross his arms (because he wasn’t grumpy, he was stoic), Damian gave him a surly look. “Nothing.”
Ma Kent chuckled again. “Nothing, hun. Now make sure to wash those hands.”
-x-
The stars were bright here. Sprawled on the roof, Damian leaned back and studied the night sky above him. Without Gotham’s pollution, the milky way was visible for once. Stars glittered above him, taking advantage of the moonless night. He had almost forgotten what the night sky could look like, what it had those nights long ago when he lived in the desert, training under his mother’s watchful eye.
An almost silent presence approached him and Damian discretely reached into his pocket for a dagger. The stranger’s hand touched his, stilling it, and he looked up to find Cassandra Cain. She offered him a smile. “It is silent here,” she murmured, sitting down beside him.
“I suppose.” Damian glanced at her, then at the fields below. It looked like a dark sea, threatening to swallow them whole. An owl hooted, crickets chirped, and all in all, it was far quieter here than it was in the city. Just when had he gotten used to the never-ending honking? Even the smell here was different. The farm felt clean.
“It is,” she corrected, hugging her knees. She closed her eyes, listening. “It is…not bad to relax.”
Not bad, perhaps, but not good either. Not when there were lives at stake in Gotham. Damian wouldn’t call himself a hero, not by any stretch of the word, but Gotham was Batman’s. Gotham was his and he was loathe to let its citizens die when they under his protection. “Isn’t it?”
“No.” Cassandra closed her eyes. Words were hard for her, action easier—perhaps one of the things he respected so much about her. When she spoke, her words meant something, they were considered and honest. “Relaxing…you can recover. Recharge. See things differently.” Opening her eyes now, she smiled at him, a waxing moon. “See what you are protecting.”
Damian stared. He was too late; Cassandra had been infected by the others. “I don’t need to see—”
“Damian!” Before he could finish his sentence, Jon floated down beside him. Dressed in bright blue pjs his mother had to have bought for him, Jon landed on his right. “What’re you doing up here alone?”
“Alone?” Damian looked at his left once more. Empty. Cassandra was gone. Even if her brain had rotted, her skills remained, and he didn’t know whether to be impressed or irritated at himself. Turning back to Jon, he shrugged. “Reflecting.”
“Reflecting on what?” Jon raised a brow before asking. “Wait, is this one of those bat-broods Dad was talking about? How you guys all go to a corner at some point or another and just sulk?”
Speechless, Damian gaped, his jaw hanging loose. Of all the things he expected to hear, that wasn’t one of them. That wasn’t even on his least likely list.
“I mean, I can’t picture Steph sulking, but maybe she wasn’t Robin long enough to get the broods.” Jon sat down next to him, bumping shoulders. “Or maybe you took all of them?”
“I’m not sulking,” Damian growled, resisting the urge to hurl Jon off the roof. Not that it would do any good, he’d just fly back and be twice as mocking about it. What was it with the Kents and their presumptions?
“Then what?” Jon’s eyes lit up and he hit his fist on his empty palm, as though he’d solved a case. “Stargazing?”
It was as good an explanation as any. Better, actually, than his own, considering he had none. “Sure.”
“Prepare to be amazed!” Jon pointed up, a wide smile on his face. “A city boy like you, you haven’t seen half of these stars before.”
“City boy?” Damian scoffed. “You’re not much better.”
“I’ve been in the country plenty of times,” Jon retorted, his mood still bright. It was like sitting next to the sun. “Besides, I can fly. Dad’s takes me up all the time to see the stars.”
A very frivolous waste of power. No wonder Bruce worried about this family.
“Anyways, see that star over there?” Jon leaned closer, wrapping an arm around Damian’s back to bring him closer. “So that’s part of the big dipper.”
Of all the stars to start with, the big dipper? Really? Damian didn’t know if he should be insulted or not. It wasn’t like he was much of a ‘city boy’ himself; growing up in the desert, his mother made sure he could navigate just as easily at night as he did the day.
He could say he had the best tutors, that he knew every constellation by heart.
He could say that Jon was pointing at the wrong dipper, he meant the one slightly below it.
Damian could say any or all of those things, but for once in his life he kept quiet. Jon was smiling and he didn’t always have to prove he was the smartest person in the room.
-x-
“So, any bets?” Steph asked, shielding her eyes as she leaned back and squinted at the sky. Despite the intense July heat, she stood away from the shade. Above them, small specks in the bright sky, were Conner, Kara, and Jon. They raced through the air, sometimes coming low enough to hear their laughter, other times they were barely visible.
“On what?” Tim asked. Like her, he was staring up at the sky. Unlike her, he was smart enough to stay next to the barn and the meager relief it provided. Perhaps he did have a modicum of intelligence after all.
Not that Damian would applaud him. Using a handful of pebbles, Damian started flicking them at distant targets, smirking when they hit with a satisfying thwink. Perhaps Jon could hide his training dummies and Tim could hide his weapons, but they couldn’t force him to be idle the entire time he was here. Glancing at Cassandra, who was sitting nonchalantly on the ground next to him, a pleased smile on her face, Damian was perplexed. How could she handle this?
“The next Super. Like, it’s obvious that Cass is the next Batman, but I dunno about them.” Ignoring Damian’s glare, she finally strolled into the shade. She leaned against the barn door and crossed her arms. “It’s between Conner and Jon.”
“So Kara’s not interested?” Tim stroked his chin thoughtfully. After humming for a few minutes, he turned to Cassandra and asked, “Who’d you rather work with?”
Unable to handle the indignancy anymore, Damian barked, “I’m the next Batman.”
“Sure.” Stephanie rested a hand on her hip, giving him a pitying look. “Whatever makes you feel better.”
“Go easy on him, it’s not easy to find out that he’ll be Robin forever.” Tim shook his head sadly. “All of that time, all of mommy’s promises that’d he’d get the job, it must be crushing.”
“What?” he squawked.
“He couldn’t even accept that Cass is Bruce’s favourite.” Coming over, Stephanie squeezed his shoulder. “And then there’s Dick—you’re maybe third? Maybe?”
Picking a pebble out of his hand, Cassandra flicked it at the bushes. A bird shot out of it, startled. “Either of them…are fine,” she answered slowly. “Conner, then Jon?”
Et tu, Brutus? Damian turned to Cassandra as she tossed yet another pebble with pinpoint accuracy. He should have realized earlier that they were all after his job, that there was no one here he could trust.
“Ah, Conner takes it on for a little before giving it to Jon.” Stephanie nodded sagely. “True, that’s also in the running.” Her hair fell in front of her as a flyby occurred and she quickly pushed back her golden locks. “You know Jon actually hangs out with them?” Wrapping an arm around Damian’s shoulder, she bemoaned, “Why can’t our baby be so friendly?”
“It would be…weird,” Cassandra pointed out, getting up now. She patted him on the back. “He is…different.”
“Who is?” Kara landed on the ground, her hair looking like a wild nest. It seemed being Kryptonian didn’t protect them entirely from physics.
“Damian, but you already knew that.” Stephanie retreated before he could attack her. “What’s up?”
Kara glared at him before smiling at Stephanie. “A race! We’ll each pick one of you up and see who can fly the fastest. So, Steph or Cass?”
“Cass!” Stephanie volunteered, leaning against Cassandra. “I’ve had plenty of flights. It’s a sacrifice, but someone has to do it.”
“Sacrifice.” Tim rolled his eyes. “You just don’t want to mess your hair.”
“Both things can be true.” She stuck her tongue out.
By now, Jon and Conner had landed as well, standing next to Damian and Tim respectively. Conner smirked cockily. “We’ve got this in the bag.”
“Yeah, we did this every day in the Teen Titans.” Tim high-fived Conner. “It’ll be too easy.”
“Oh, just you wait and see!” Kara stood next to Cassandra, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I’ve practiced.”
“We’ll win!” Jon declared, grabbing Damian’s hand. Leaning closer, he whispered, “And no matter what, you’re my Batman.”
“Huh?” Damian tried to look at Jon but before he could, he was already in the air and the race had started.
On that day, Damian discovered that his stomach was both stronger and weaker than he’d expected.
-x-
At nine pm, it was dark. Dark in a different way than Gotham got—for all the narrow alleys and forgotten warehouses, it was never truly devoid of light. Whether it was a flickering streetlamp or the semi-blocked lights of an office, there was light somewhere.
Here, though, in the middle of nowhere, it was pitch dark. Damian could just make out Jon’s figure sitting next to him. The others, still sitting near the barbeque a short distance away, were impossible to see. The only thing visible were the stars above, as disgustingly bright as ever. Somehow, the sky never turned truly dark, a thing he had forgotten. It had been too long since he’d been in the desert, since he’d left the city behind.
“I’m glad you came.” Even without looking, he knew Jon was smiling. He was always smiling, always moving, always something, like his face didn’t know how not express his emotions, like his body would combust if he stayed still.
Damian didn’t bother to reply. Leaning forward on the dock edge, he skimmed his shoe against the still waters, watching the dark ripples warp the galaxy below. The only thing rivalling the stars were the fireflies drifting lazily nearby, yellow spots against the black.
Unfazed (and Damian didn’t want to think about when that happened, about when Jon stopped getting angry at his silence and just accepted it), Jon rested his hand on Damian’s, threading their fingers together. It was an oddly intimate sensation. Damian didn’t mind it for some reason. “It’s a lot more fun when you’re around. I wish you didn’t have to leave tomorrow.”
This time, Jon’s stare was expectant. Damian glanced at him, then back at the fireflies. “It wasn’t a complete waste,” he muttered, a half-truth. Perhaps there was something to vacations, but he loathed to admit it.
Jon laughed, seeing through him. “Knew you’d like it here.”
Feeling a little prickly, Damian glared at him. “Don’t act like you know—”
“But I’m right, aren’t I?” When Damian didn’t say anything, Jon leaned closer. “I know you.”
Before Damian could react, Jon’s lips were on his cheek, a warm pressure that was all too temporarily. His jaw fell slack. His skin burned. For once, his words failed him and he felt like a simpleton.
“If I knew that’d shut you up, I’d have done it ages ago.” Jon smirked, looking playful.
“Jon!” Pa Kent yelled. “We’re making smores.”
“Save me some chocolate!”
And just like that, Jon leaped to his feet, dashing away, and Damian still didn’t know what to say.
-x-
The roof was empty when he sat on it. Cassandra wasn’t there to give advice. Jon wasn’t there, laughing as he strung together stars like they were the pearls, creating tapestries on the sky above. There was just complete and utter silence, just as Damian preferred.
While his skin had cooled down, his heart hadn’t, and he tried to meditate. Crossing his legs, he emptied his mind. Jon’s lips had been soft. He emptied his mind. His hand was rough. He emptied his mind. Jon—
And maybe he had been wrong before; it was too late for himself. He’d been infected by all these damnable people around him, to the point he had actually considered asking Tim Drake of all people for advice. Friendship, family, love—
It was too late. He had all of them and as loathe as he was to let them in, he was even worse about letting them go.
-x-
“So.” The confident Jon of yesterday was gone, leaving a more nervous boy in its wake. He was constantly fidgeting, his eyes darting all over like he didn’t know where to look. Judging by the bags under his eyes, he probably hadn’t slept.
Good. He deserved a little suffering for leaving like that, for forcing Damian to think about his feelings. “So?” he drawled out, relishing in the little flinch Jon gave.
They were standing in front of the Kent’s house, in the cool morning air. For the first time in two weeks, the sun wasn’t beating down on him and Damian couldn’t wait to return to the air conditioning of the Wayne manor. Already, the others were packing up the car, leaving only him and Jon to say their goodbyes.
Or, well, whatever it was that Jon was trying to say. Damian tapped his foot on the ground, raising a brow when Jon didn’t say anything.
“See you later?” Jon managed weakly.
Sighing, Damian tossed him a bone. “Even a stopped clock is right twice. This vacation wasn’t terrible, I’m not adverse to doing it again. However, we are making this up with double the amount of work when we get back.”
Jon blinked. “You still want to be partners?”
Damian nodded. “Yes, I thought you had superhearing?”
“And the other thing?” Jon asked, stepping closer.
It took all of Damian’s willpower to not step back, not even when Jon was close enough to touch, to kiss. Feeling a familiar flush on the back of his neck, he coughed and looked away. “That…that was fine too.”
“Really?” Jon’s voice was filled with an earnest hope and Damian’s stomach flip-flopped.
“Don’t make me repeat it,” Damian growled, feeling uncharacteristically flustered.
“Damian!” That was the only warning he got before Jon’s arms were around him once more, his lips pressed against his own. Behind him, he heard a bag drop and of all the people to bear witness to this, it had to be the morons in his family.
It was hard to pay attention to both them and Jon, to the pure joy that radiated off his—Damian didn’t know what to call Jon anymore. Friend didn’t feel appropriate. Whatever it was, he’d figure it out later, when they were alone and they didn’t have the peanut gallery around. Gingerly, he wrapped an arm around Jon, pulling him closer. When they finally parted to take a breath, he glared at Jon. “Did you have to do it in front of them?”
“That’s your first response?” Jon grinned, leaning close to kiss him on the nose. Reluctantly letting go, Jon stepped back. “See you in a week.”
“Like I’m letting you off the hook that easily,” Damian grumbled, pretty sure his entire face was red now. While he took after his mother, his brown skin could only hide so much, and unfortunately his carmates eyes were sharper than most.
Ignoring the stares, he marched to the car and plunked himself into the front passenger seat. He was not going to deal with Stephanie’s teasing a second time around, not when she had more ammo. At least Drake would have to keep his eyes on the road.
-x-
The entire car ride back was filled with Tim and Stephanie singing, “Damian and Jon, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”
Damian had never been more tempted to kill.