Archive of Our Own

Damian was the first to leave the emergency meeting. He had too much frustration and anger building under his skin to withstand even a second more of listening to his family plan ways to murder or imprison Jon and his family.

He slammed the door to his locker closed hard enough that the sound echoed loudly through the cave and startled the bats roosting in the cave. It didn’t matter; everyone else was still in the strategy meeting and weren’t here to witness his loss of composure. He tossed his sweats and shirt in the locker and replaced them with his Robin suit. He wasn’t scheduled to patrol tonight, but what did it matter anymore? The end of it all was looming in sight, and no one cared if he did an extra patrol; Gotham would be low on Bats for the night as it was.

The Atlanteans had made their explosive show of force only hours before. The king of the seas had found the war between the remaining Justice Lords threatened his world and had told Batman and Superman in no uncertain terms that he’d flood the planet if it didn’t stop. It didn’t seem to matter to him who won the war as long as it stopped bothering the Atlanteans. Damian couldn’t help but wonder if that idiot of a king had any idea what he was getting himself into.

Neither Batman nor Superman could afford to get into a spat with the Atlanteans right now, when they needed to be constantly on guard for each other. But if the war actually ended, matters would be completely different. If Superman won the war and wiped out the Bats, he definitely wouldn’t forget Aquaman’s insult. Damian hoped Aquaman would be ready to face Superman’s wrath by himself if that happened.

So, now they had to end the war as soon as possible, or there wouldn’t be a world to rule over for anyone. That meant it was time for desperate measures, and it also meant Damian’s stupid little game with Jon had come to an end. Their time together could be now counted in months at best, more likely in weeks or days.

Drake had suggested a truce as an option in the strategy meeting, his face completely impassive and neutral, like he truly didn’t care one way or another, even though everyone in the room knew exactly why Drake hoped for a bloodless end to this all. Father had shot the idea down immediately, and even Grayson had just winced and shrugged in response. After all the years they’d spent fighting each other, any hope of Batman and Superman being able to trust each other long enough to commit to a truce was long gone.

So, the war had to end, and it had to have a decisive victor. The others were still in the meeting room, trying to figure out ways to make that happen. When Damian had left, manufacturing artificial kryptonite had still been their best plan. That was something Father and Drake had been working on for a while already, since their own reserves of kryptonite had started to dwindle the longer the war went on.

Damian had asked what would happen to the losing side if they managed to create the kryptonite in time and won the war. It’d been a stupid question, but he’d had to at least ask.

Father had looked him in the eye, and Damian had seen a horrible glint of pity in there, before it’d been wiped out by grim determination. “We’ll try to take them alive if we can, Damian. But the odds of that happening are slim.”

Damian had kept his expression blank and unreadable, even though everyone in the room had known why he’d asked. “I see.”

Damian didn't need to ask anything else. Even if they did manage to take Jon in alive, he’d spend the rest of his life in prison, under a red lamp. It was likely that it would have to be a small cell that Jon would never be allowed to leave for fear that he might escape. Or maybe Father would just collar him with kryptonite to make sure he wouldn’t be in any condition to think about running. Jon might prefer a quick death over that.

“You need to tell me now if your judgment is impaired,” Batman said. “That goes for any of you.” His words were addressed to everyone, but his eyes landed only on Damian and Drake.

Drake crossed his arms, visibly pissed off. “I’m here, aren’t I, Bruce?”

Damian had nodded, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt. “I think my loyalties are very clear.”

Batman had said nothing to that, hadn’t demanded oaths of loyalty from any other members of their family, and the meeting had continued. Damian had stuck it out for as long as he could.

And now he was going to go out and find someone appropriate to punch.

Drake strolled into the locker room, by all appearances calm as ever. He came to a halt as he noticed Damian standing there in full Robin costume and gave him a wry, knowing smile.

“I’m going patrolling,” Damian said and cursed himself for how defensive he sounded.

“So am I,” Drake shrugged.

Damian balled his hands into fists. He seriously doubted Drake was really going to be doing any patrolling tonight. “No, I’m actually going patrolling.”

“Really? You’re wasting your time.” Drake stepped around Damian to get to his own locker and started pulling his clothes off with no regard for modesty. Years of using common changing rooms had really cured all of them of any shyness they might’ve otherwise had. “And I mean that in the literal sense. You know we could only have days left before this all ends, right?”

“Like running to the clone will somehow help that,” Damian scoffed.

He was breaking the rules, and he knew it. They weren’t supposed to talk about this, weren’t supposed to acknowledge the obvious. No one ever mentioned the thing between Tim and Kon, or between Damian and Jon, beyond some knowing looks and vaguely worded jokes. Everyone knew what was going on, but as long as everyone involved could hide behind plausible deniability, no one had to actually admit that both Tim and Damian were fucking the enemy.

Drake lifted his eyebrows sarcastically and apparently decided to throw caution to the wind. “Because pouting by yourself will totally help you feel better.” He snorted. “Sometimes you’re so like Bruce it’s uncanny.”

Drake pulled on the shirt of his Red Robin costume and started pulling equipment out of the locker. So, despite everything he said, Drake was still going to his clandestine meeting fully armed. Damian didn’t know what to think about that.

“Things are different now,” Damian said, and his voice came out much quieter than he’d intended. He hated how sad it made him sound. “The clone has much more incentive to betray you now.”

Drake focused fully on strapping on his utility belt and didn’t look at Damian. “That would only be a problem if I didn’t trust him not to.” He shrugged, still looking away from Damian like he really needed all of his focus for the belt. “In a fight, all bets are off. Outside of it, I trust him.”

“That’s stupid,” Damian hissed, pissed off. He knew now was a bad time to be picking a fight; he should just leave and go beat up whatever criminals he could find out in the city, but the unwavering certainty on Drake’s face was too much to bear. Drake knew better than this; he knew Kon would always put his family first, just the same as Drake would always put his own family first. He knew the kinds of things people did when they got desperate. “You have to know that it’s over between you two now. It’s too big a risk to continue taking.”

Drake finally turned around to meet his eyes, and for a moment, Damian braced himself for a punch. But Drake just stared at him with narrowed eyes, considering something so intently that Damian felt like a bug under a microscope. Damian knew people thought the Bats were unnerving when they stared quietly, unblinkingly at something, but he himself had become largely immune to the effect due to long exposure.

Right now, he felt unnerved.

“Alright, fine. I’m going to give you some brotherly advice, just this once.” Drake didn’t blink, staying still in the way a large predator did right before it pounced. Damian bit down on the urge to bare his teeth. “Either I or Kon will probably be dead by the end of this war. There won’t be a happy ending to this. We’ve known that from the start.”

Drake took a step forward, and Damian found himself taking one backwards, staying out of Drake’s reach.

“So before that happens,” Drake continued, voice low and unsettlingly controlled. “I’d rather see him again, as many times as I can.”

Drake stepped around Damian, finally breaking eye contact and moving to leave the locker room. “What you do with Jon is your business. But I’d recommend you stop wasting your time.”

Damian took another step back, even though Drake was already walking away from him. It felt like he’d been struck anyway.

Damian had thought he could do this, back when he’d promised to give Jon every moment he could. He’d known the end would come eventually. But even though he’d known that, seeing it coming hurt too much.

“How do you know you can trust him?” Damian asked, quietly enough that Drake could’ve pretended not to hear if he wanted to.

Drake paused, still facing away from Damian. “I don’t know. It feels like I just have to.” His voice was equally quiet, so Damian could pretend not to hear it. There was that plausible deniability again.

Damian knew what Drake meant. He didn’t want to trust Jon, had told himself from the beginning that he never would, but somehow Jon just kept worming under his skin, time and time again. He kept- he kept promising Damian things and then kept those promises, never once trying to use their encounters to hurt Damian. The closest he’d gotten was when he’d pressured Damian into admitting his feelings for him, and even then, he’d let Damian have a weapon at hand. He always let Damian have a weapon at hand, even though he was afraid Damian would hurt him.

The door to the locker room was yanked open, and Todd entered the room so fast he almost ran bodily into Drake. “Whoa! Why’re you blocking the door?”

Drake staggered a step back to avoid collision, and Todd peered around him to take in the room with suspicion. His eyes landed on Damian and widened in understanding. “Oh, I get it. The sad boyfriend’s club is having a meeting.”

Damian gritted his teeth. It really wasn’t a surprise that Todd of all people was talking about this; he’d had loads of fun throwing vague innuendos at both Damian and Drake, waiting to see who he could piss off first. He was the only person who didn’t pretend not to see the obvious.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Drake deadpanned and left. Todd snorted obnoxiously at his retreating back.

“Yeah, sure you don’t, Timmy!” Todd turned to Damian expectantly. “Well, isn’t your crazy, obsessive, alien boyfriend waiting for you? You don’t want to miss out on your YA romantasy adventure, do you, Feyre?”

Damian didn’t know who Feyre was, but now he did know that Todd apparently read romance fantasy books.

Damian gritted his teeth. “I’m going patrolling.”

“Right,” Todd said blankly, his eyebrows slowly rising on his forehead. “That’s what I said.”

“No, I’m actually going patrolling,” Damian bit back, thoroughly annoyed at having to go through this again.

Todd snorted. “What the fuck? No, you’re not.” Todd swept past him to the lockers to get his own gear. “The other side got the same news today that we did: your alien foot enthusiast will be waiting for you.”

Damian picked up one of his batarangs and threw it at Todd, who dodged.

“Shut up,” he hissed.

Todd just laughed. “Come on, brat, B isn’t in the room right now, you can live a little. It’s the end times, after all.”

Damian turned around and left. Todd didn’t try to stop him.

Damian went to patrol with a stubborn sort of reluctance sitting heavy in his gut. Luckily, Gotham never disappointed when it came to crime, and Damian managed to relieve some of his frustration on a group of would-be robbers trying to hold up a corner store.

Damian kicked one of the robbers in the chest, then ducked down to dodge an incoming punch and used his still raised leg to kick another robber and send the gun in their hand clattering to the ground.

The robber, whose gun it was, scrambled to get it back; Damian lowered his foot on both the gun and the robber’s fingers. There was a satisfying crunch and then a scream.

Neither of the robbers tried to get up again, the cowards.

Damian felt a little better as he left the robbers tied up for the cops and grappled away. That good mood froze and evaporated when he spotted a figure in red and blue hovering around, looming.

Damian landed in front of Superboy with a deliberately heavy thump of his boots.

“Superboy. I don’t think you’ve got permission to be in Gotham.”

He definitely didn’t. If any of the others caught him here, his life would be in danger. Not even Drake would let a slight like this slide, especially today.

Jon refused to look cowed, but he did throw a glance over his shoulder, as if he’d ever have a chance of seeing a Bat coming.

“I knew you wouldn’t come see me, so I came here instead.”

Damian scoffed cruelly. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t be here."

Jon shrugged, glaring at the ground at Damian’s feet in sullen defeat. “I had to come, Damian.”

Damian took a step closer to the man, feeling an inexorable pull towards him. “Jon.” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence, and the words died in his throat anyway. His hands itched to reach out and make that stupid, sad look go away. Jon never looked sad; he was optimistic to a fault.

Jon met his eyes, and the wrecked expression there felt like a punch to the gut. “I love you.”

Damian’s anger boiled over.

“Do not start that,” Damian hissed and drove his fist into Jon’s chest. All it achieved was to make Damian’s hand hurt, but the pain felt good, grounding. “Do you really think that’ll change anything?”

Their time together had a very tangible counter now. Weeks. Days. Minutes. They were done for, and at the end of it, one of them was going to be dead, and the other would be alone.

“You idiot. I don’t want you here. Don’t you think I would’ve come find you if I wanted to see you?” Damian shoved Jon uselessly and bared his teeth at the man.

What kind of a moron walked into enemy territory right when his enemies wanted to ambush him the most? But Jon never thought about things beyond his dick and his heart. And the others were no better, with their insinuations and unwanted advice.

Jon’s eyes widened, and the hurt in them seemed to impossibly deepen. “I wanted to-“

“I know what you wanted,” Damian spat out. “It just doesn’t matter. Maybe I should capture you here myself? Alert the others and engage our defenses. We could have the whole war over by morning.”

He’d never wanted this in the first place. This was the exact scenario he’d been trying to avoid. But he’d been a moron and let Jon get close, and now it was so much harder to close him out anymore.

Jon grabbed Damian’s hand to stop his assault, and Damian drove the fingers of his free hand into the pressure points of Jon’s wrist. Jon let go, more out of surprise at his viciousness than any kind of pain.

Jon nursed his hand against his chest like it’d been broken; his voice came out weak and brittle. “You can’t.”

“Yes, I can. That’s the whole entire point, Superboy.” Damian took another step closer until he had to tilt his head up to look at Jon; he bared his teeth in a threat. “Time’s up. There are no more moments left. All we’re doing is waiting to see where the pieces will fall.”

It was going to end badly, and Damian would end up broken at the end of it, one way or the other.

Jon looked sick with heartache, and Damian hated him and hated how much he loved him.

“You won’t,” Jon said, his voice dead certain even though Damian had never once given him such promises.

Damian had always told Jon he’d do his all to take the Supers down. Out in the world, out in the field, all trust went out the window. Out here, in Gotham, they were enemies.

Damian could take Jon down. He had to do it. It’s what everyone expected of him, it’s what he’d promised his Father he’d do when he’d declared his side in the meeting.

Damian’s fist closed over Jon’s shoulder and pulled him closer, to stare into those blue, pathetically sad eyes.

He couldn’t even imagine killing Jon anymore.

Damian yanked Jon closer, and the man moved with it obligingly; their mouths crashed together in one blindingly fast move. The kiss was angry and disappointed and desperate and everything Damian had never wanted.

He was doomed to repeat his mother’s mistakes after all. He was going to live his life loving someone he could never have.

They broke apart, both of them panting; Damian refused to meet Jon’s eyes.

Jon cupped Damian’s cheek gently and raised his head to meet his gaze. “Let’s go on a date.”

“What?”

Jon shrugged. “We’re fucked either way, right? It can’t hurt. So, let’s just forget everything else this one night and go on a date like two normal boys our age.”

Damian glared and leaned more into the hand caressing his cheek. “But we’re not normal. We’re never going to be normal.”

“Yeah,” Jon agreed softly. “Let’s do it anyway.”

Damian stared into Jon’s eyes, at their endless capacity for hope.

“Okay.” Damian swallowed. “Let’s do it.”

Damian led them to the closest Bat safehouse nearby and made a mental note to mark it as burned later, so none of the others would try to use it. The safehouse was stocked with civvies in various sizes, and both Damian and Jon could change into something normal people would wear. A T-shirt, a hoodie, and a pair of jeans, and both of them could’ve passed for regular college students.

Jon pulled a pair of glasses from somewhere and mussed up his hair a little, and when he looked at Damian, a little giddy like he was doing something fun and daring, Damian could almost believe that he was just a normal boy next door.

“What should we do first?” Jon asked, shoving his hands in the pockets of his new jeans. “What’s normal date stuff? Like, the movies?”

Damian dragged a hand through his hair, purposefully messing up the carefully gelled style. It made him feel a little better, like he was putting on a disguise for a mission. Maybe if he just pretended this was all for a case, it wouldn’t feel so much like betraying his family.

“First, we get out of Gotham. We’re going to get caught if we stay here.”

Jon wrapped his hands around Damian obligingly, smiling as he did so. “Where do you want to go?”

Damian tilted his head. “Anywhere, Kent.”

Jon’s smile hitched higher. “I’m in disguise. Call me Jon.”

Jon took off through the open window before Damian could respond. He moved so fast the wind took Damian’s breath away; he had to bury his face into Jon’s chest to be able to breathe. He didn’t think he’d ever been carried by Jon like this, not outside of their fights where they were both aiming to hurt and kill. Damian liked this better.

Damian had no way to keep track of where they were going or how impossibly fast they were doing it, so when Jon’s feet touched the ground, he had no idea where they were.

Damian hopped out of Jon’s arms, more out of the principle of the matter than any desire to get some distance between them. He looked around and noted the buildings and the local landmarks with inappropriate amusement.

“The Flash museum. We’re in Central City.”

Jon shrugged, also inappropriately amused. “Neither Batman nor Superman ever wants to come here. I figured there wasn’t a better place to hide.”

Right. The Justice Lords’ regime had been founded on Flash’s death, a deep scar that’d forever shattered the former heroes. Father said Flash would be ashamed of what they’d done in his memory. Damian expected that was true, with the world about to end and all.

Thoughts for another time, not something Damian, as a normal young man, was supposed to be thinking about. “I’m starving. Let’s go get dinner, Jon.”

“Right.” Jon took up pace next to Damian, his hands behind his back, looking giddy and excited like a golden retriever puppy. “What are you in the mood for, Dami?”

“Dami?” Damian’s lips twitched despite themselves.

“I think normal guy Jon would call his boyfriend by a nickname,” Jon defended himself.

“Boyfriend? How presumptuous, Kent. We’re on a first date. And normal guy Damian would never do cutesy nicknames.”

Jon puffed out his cheeks and let the air out slowly, pretending he needed the time to think about a counter when Damian knew full well how sharp and devious that mind of his was. “This might be our first date, but we’ve known each other forever. Jon and Damian met each other in middle school. I’ve been trying to get you to go out with me for years, and tonight you finally said yes.”

Damian covered up a smile and decided to play along. “Yes, you’ve been trying to get me to go along with the nickname for ages, even though everyone knows it’s a losing battle.”

“Sure. But that just means I’m the only one who gets to call you Dami.”

Damian sneered. “Normal guy Jon is disgustingly sappy.”

Jon laughed. “Normal guy Damian is a huge asshole.”

They found the streets of Central City almost abandoned. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. The Atlanteans had made their announcement to the whole world, and people were bound to be terrified of the possibility of their world ending. Most people would be with their families right now, seeking comfort where they could.

“Oh.” Jon stared at all the closed restaurants lining the streets, his good cheer giving way to disappointment. “Everywhere’s closed.”

Damian looked around, wanting to wipe that horrible look from Jon’s face. “Not everywhere. Follow me.” Damian had been to Central City a couple of times before. It was true that Batman and Superman never wanted to come here, the city holding too many memories of their friend and the beforetimes for both of them. That was exactly why Damian and his brothers sometimes used it as a base when they needed some space from Father. So, Damian knew his way around.

“Behold,” Damian held out a hand, showcasing his findings. “A Waffle House.”

Jon gaped. “Are you kidding me?”

“They never close. That’s capitalism for you.” Damian grabbed Jon’s hand and pulled him along, because that’s what normal guy Dami would’ve done. “Now let’s go.”

“Wait, are you taking me to our first date in a Waffle House?” Jon mocked outrage quite well. “You’re literally a billionaire.”

Damian scoffed. “Normal guy Damian comes from a middle-class family and has a part-time job to support his college studies. You’re lucky you’re getting Waffle House. Also, we’re splitting the bill.”

Jon squeezed his hand tight. “Oh man, you’re a cheapskate and an asshole. I’ve got horrible taste in men.”

The restaurant was almost empty, only a few customers in, so Damian and Jon had their pick of the tables. They chose a booth farthest away from the other customers and the kitchen so they could have privacy. They didn’t necessarily need it tonight, but old habits die hard.

“What does normal guy Dami study in college?” Jon asked as they sat down.

Damian thought about it harder than he should’ve for such a silly game. “Medicine. He wants to be a doctor.” Jon’s eyes were far too knowing, like he knew Damian wasn't just making it up on the spot anymore.

Damian cleared his throat pointedly. “What does normal guy Jon do with his life?”

Jon leaned back in his seat, giving it serious thought. “He’s having a gap year to sort some stuff out.” Jon’s eyes were somewhere far away, and the playful smile had dropped off his face. “He went into college to study journalism, until he realized he was just doing it because of his dad and his heart wasn’t really in it.”

Jon stared at the wall, refusing to meet Damian’s eyes, which was probably best for both of them.

“What is he doing on his gap year?” Damian asked softly.

“He works in construction while he’s trying to figure out what he actually wants to do.”

Jon looked a little panicked, his eyes wide and confused, flitting around the room, looking for a way out. Damian decided to lighten the mood. “Construction is good work. Very sexy. Dami’s definitely planning to brag to his friends about his hot new boyfriend with blue-collar muscles.”

That got a relieved smile out of Jon. “Yeah, well, that’s good because Jon’s really thrilled at the prospect of marrying a doctor. That’d be a great way to get his mother off his back about making something of himself.”

Damian carefully did not flinch. Jon never talked about his mother, not even offhandedly. Lois Lane was a topic no one in the entire world brought up.

Jon frowned, and for a second, Damian thought he’d have to save the conversation again, but Jon didn’t seem to be done with the topic yet. “Actually, scratch that. My mom would love you, doctor or not. I bet she’d secretly been hoping we hook up for years now.”

That hit Damian like a punch in the gut. There probably wasn’t a higher compliment Jon could’ve given him than imagine that his mother would’ve liked Damian.

Damian was saved from having to say something by the waitress suddenly appearing at their table. She was a girl in her late teens, with red-rimmed eyes, like maybe she’d been crying recently.

“Welcome to Waffle House,” the girl said listlessly. “Are you guys ready to order?”

Jon and Damian exchanged uncomfortable glances. No matter how hard they tried to pretend otherwise, the end of the world was in the air. Whether it was the red-eyed waitress or the other customers at the restaurant, drunk and depressed and strangely muted, everyone here was thinking about death tonight.

Jon ordered a cheeseburger, and Damian got himself a vegan sandwich. The girl nodded silently and retreated back to the kitchen without any extra attempt at niceties. Damian made a mental note to leave her a good tip.

“So, uh,” Jon soldiered on bravely once they were alone together again. “Why a doctor? I didn’t think you had any real interest in medicine.”

Damian could’ve pointed out that he’d never said he had any interest in medicine, that this was all just a game they were making up as they went. But the game had soured, and one of them was going to die, and this was the only date Damian would ever get with Jon.

So, he had to take Drake’s advice and stop wasting time.

“I’ve always wanted to help people,” Damian said casually, leaning his elbows on the table like this really was their first date, and they were getting to know each other. “I think being a doctor would be a good way to do that. Less complicated than... the family business.”

Jon sighed. “Tell me about it. I don’t understand why journalism has to be so bloody.”

Because Jon’s father was a despot. Because Jon worked with him to brutally force people under their thumb.

Damian knew he shouldn’t say anything about it, that he shouldn’t ruin the mood. But whether he was Damian or Dami, he always spoke his mind, or he wouldn’t be able to be either.

“There would be far less blood if it weren’t for the lobotomies,” Damian commented, unable to help himself.

Jon flinched, and the moment of emotional vulnerability fell flat. Jon glared at him. “Don’t act like your family’s any better. Last I looked, your dad’s plots have spilled plenty of blood.”

Damian’s shoulders stiffened. He wasn’t going to pretend that Batman was perfect. Father was a founding member of the Justice Lords; the burden of this all lay very much on him. Father knew that himself, didn’t shy away from admitting it, since self-flagellation had always been a favorite of his. And the war itself was bloody, with the two opposing sides clashing constantly. The worst of it might’ve been their supporters trying to fight their wars for them. That was the reason Metropolitans couldn’t travel to Gotham these days and vice versa. And there was no denying that their actions in fighting against Lord Superman and Lord Wonder Woman had caused injuries and death.

But Superman was trying to bend the whole world under his will, was trying to force the world to become good through fear. He was taking anyone he deemed evil and making an example of them so the others would stay in line. World governments now answered to Superman, not their constituents. To Lord Superman, lobotomy, a penalty of living death, was a matter of course.

The volumes of blood they’d left behind were very different.

“We don’t kill our enemies. Can you say the same?” Damian responded.

Jon frowned, a tiny hint of red behind his blue eyes. An angry Kryptonian should’ve been a sight to behold, and yet Damian couldn’t muster up any fear. “But you’re going to kill us if you get the chance,” Jon said.

It wasn’t a question. There was no point in asking.

Damian looked away. “That one goes for both sides.”

Jon shifted in his seat, and even without looking, Damian knew he was frowning. “Maybe our methods aren’t the nicest, but we’re making the world a better place. We’re making things more orderly, stopping bad people from exploiting innocents. Half of the world supports us.”

Damian tilted his head back, tired. Jon wasn’t exactly wrong. Lord Superman and Lord Wonder Woman had large support among the civilians. A lot of people thought that what Batman was doing was just protecting criminals. If their lives had to be in the hands of someone else, many people reasoned that they’d rather it be in Superman’s than some corrupt politician.

“How much of that do you really believe?” Damian asked the ceiling. “And how much would you change if you weren’t afraid of your dad?”

“Which one of us are you asking?”

Damian didn’t answer.

The waitress returned with their food, and if she noticed the weird air between them, she didn’t mention it. Not that she seemed like she much cared about a stranger’s date going badly tonight.

She set down the food and retreated quickly, not even trying to muster up one of those fake smiles service people were always required to wear.

Damian finally looked back at Jon, who was picking at his fries with a pout, visibly upset.

Damian had always been an asshole. Usually, Jon liked that about him. He wondered if that would’ve eventually changed, if they’d had the opportunity to be in an actual relationship. If they’d spent enough time together, Damian would’ve had to watch Jon’s obsession for him slowly fade, the cons starting to outweigh the pros. Damian knew he was a difficult person, too difficult for most people. Maybe Jon would’ve eventually agreed with those people.

Damian still thought he would’ve liked to find out, if that had been a possibility.

Jon noticed him looking, and the pout dropped off his face, replaced with faint embarrassment. “You’re staring.”

Bats had unnerving stares, Damian remembered. Jon had always seemed to like that, too.

Again, Drake’s words came back to him. Again, Damian was wasting time.

“Does normal guy Jon have any hobbies?” Damian asked and picked up one of Jon’s fries casually, like they shared food all the time. It made Jon startle just a bit, because he was no good at keeping his emotions hidden.

“Uh, yeah, I,” Jon took a sip of his drink to give himself time to think about it. “I play soccer with my friends every Wednesday. I’m pretty bad at it, but it’s fun.”

Damian smiled because he was a lot better at hiding his emotions. Of course, in Jon’s fantasy world, he had enough friends for a game of soccer; he probably had enough to fill a stadium. Jon had always been a social creature, but neither of their lives had lent themselves well to making social connections. The closest Jon got to humans was on the nights he went out clubbing. Or when he was fucking Damian.

“Soccer, huh. I would’ve pegged you for something more physical. Football, maybe. Or rugby.”

Jon blew a raspberry. “No way. I get enough of a workout as is. What about you, got any hobbies?”

“I draw. Paint, sometimes,” Damian answered and was honestly surprised at himself for telling a truth. Jon also looked surprised.

“Cool. Do you have any siblings?”

Damian huffed. “Absolutely none. I’m an only child and so happy for it.”

Jon laughed. “Yeah, you wish, Dami.”

Damian glared at him, and he just snickered back without remorse.

“I bet you have pets, though,” Jon said, gesturing with a fry enthusiastically. “You used to be so into animals when we were little, it was like you were trying to build your own personal zoo.”

Damian was surprised Jon still remembered that. He’d gone through a whole phase of trying to rescue every animal that crossed his way. He’d had to give it up after the Justice Lords split and the war started, of course, there hadn’t been time for childish hobbies like that after. It wouldn’t have been a safe environment to foster pets anyway. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing Jon would remember.

“I still have Alfred the cat,” Damian answered, telling another unexpected truth. “She’s as old as the sky and keeps peeing on my laundry. Even locked doors can’t seem to stop her.”

Jon laughed. “Oh man, figures your cat’s got ninja skills too.”

There was a comfortable lull in conversation for a moment as they both focused on eating. Damian wasn’t too sure what else there was to talk about. They’d already gone over most of the classic first date topics. Whenever Damian had gone on dates as a civilian in the past, he’d let his dates do most of the talking. It wasn’t because he’d been particularly interested in his dates; it was just another casual manipulation tactic he used to manage civilians. He could’ve done the same to Jon, encouraged him to keep talking and say little himself, but it seemed wrong somehow.

Damian wanted to keep talking to Jon, not just fill the minutes.

“The food here isn’t bad or anything, but I really wanted to take you somewhere nicer for our first date,” Jon sighed suddenly.

“Oh, did you think about taking me out on dates often?” Damian asked with a teasing smirk.

Jon snorted and rolled his eyes. “Only all the time. I’ve been fantasizing about dating you for years.” He frowned at his mostly eaten burger. “Although in my dreams we were usually somewhere fancy and expensive, and you looked more impressed.”

“Why would fancy and expensive impress me?” Damian asked, because it was better than blushing or something equally mortifying. “It’s not like it’s anything new for me.”

Damian tried not to think about how apparently, Jon had been daydreaming about dating him a lot before they ever started fucking. Damian had known he’d dreamed about fucking him, of course, but about going on dates? About having a relationship? That was – that was a little more than Damian had expected.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s a fantasy, I guess. I literally can’t think of anything that would impress you.” Jon frowned at his plate. Damian felt a stupid urge to comfort him.

“I’m having a good time right now,” he assured the man. “And it’s pretty impressive how fast you can inhale a plate of fries.”

Jon shot him a glare even as his lips twitched. “Don’t patronize me, Dami.”

They got through the meal in pleasant conversation, occasionally switching back to asking each other first date questions just for the novelty of it. Some of the other customers at the restaurant left, others came in, but the atmosphere remained quiet and mournful, and they could both feel it.

Jon slammed his hands on the table and straightened out his back. “Do you wanna get out of here and do something else?”

“Yes,” Damian agreed instantly. “I’ll pay, and we can go.”

“You don’t have to pay, I can-”

Damian pulled out his wallet with raised eyebrows. “I hope you don’t think you can get into my pants with a free meal, Kent. No, I’ll pay.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “You’ve just always got to take the lead, don’t you?”

“I’m a born leader, yes.”

Damian paid for their meal, and they left the restaurant, bickering comfortably the whole way out. Once they were back outside, they faced the same problem as before, as almost everywhere was closed.

Jon’s demeanor got a little panicked as he led them through the city’s streets, only to run into closed doors everywhere they went.

“Oh come on,” Jon murmured, staring at another sorry, we’re closed sign. He turned to Damian with wide, apologetic eyes. “Just give me a second. I can totally find somewhere for us.”

Damian wondered where on Earth Jon thought he’d go. Did he really think Damian would throw a tantrum and stomp off? Like just being here with him wasn’t the whole point.

Damian took his hand. “Relax, Jon. I think this date is going pretty well.”

Jon grimaced. “You need to raise your standards, Dami.”

Damian laughed because absolutely no one had ever told him that before. “My standards are impossibly high, believe me.”

Jon’s expression softened at his laugh before determination filled his whole being, making him look more like Superboy than Jon. Damian took a startled half-step backwards, but Jon didn’t notice, turning his gaze to the building in front of them.

“I can make this work. Just give me a second.”

Jon punched his hand through the door of the Museum of Natural History and yanked the entire thing off by its hinges.

He turned a beaming smile on Damian. “Oh look, they’re open after all.”

Damian’s mouth twitched. “Ah. So I see.”

Damian pulled out his phone and connected it to the museum’s internal systems. Their security systems weren’t exactly up to the Bats’ par, so it was a matter of seconds to cancel the alarm that the unexpected opening of the door was about to send out. Next, he shut off all the surveillance cameras and sent out a virus to wipe out their memories so they’d capture nothing from tonight.

“And now we don’t have to worry about being surveilled.” Damian stepped into the observatory and cast Jon a flirty look over his shoulder. “Close the door on your way in, won’t you?”

Jon’s answering smile was all fangs, and he slammed the door down in its proper place so from the outside it’d look more or less normal, except for the fist-sized hole.

“We make a good team,” Jon said as he skipped after Damian.

“That’s not a big surprise. Remember that our fathers managed to take over a whole planet together,” Damian answered coolly.

Really, though, they did make a good team. If things had turned out a little differently, they probably could’ve made miracles together.

Jon scoffed. “We could totally do that too,” he said dismissively.

Damian wasn’t too proud to admit that that mental image was somewhat attractive. The two of them ruling together, side by side. What a life that would be. But it was just a little fantasy to hide among all the others. A life like that would require both of their fathers to be gone, and Damian didn’t want a reality like that.

“Oh, are you looking forward to total world domination?” Damian asked, and even he didn’t know if he was going for teasing or cruel. “I never thought you were all that interested in power.”

Jon’s eyes glowed red in the dark of the museum. He leaned closer, so close his mouth was on Damian’s ear, his breath tickling Damian’s skin. “The only person I’m interested in dominating is you, Dami. I think you already know that.”

Hearing that from the godlike being wreathed in shadows did something indescribable to Damian. He shuddered.

Jon’s arms snaked around Damian’s waist, pulling him close, his teeth nipping at Damian’s ear. “I’d love to keep you. My very own trophy. I don’t think I’d ever want for anything again, might not even leave my room ever again with you in it.”

Damian relaxed into Jon’s arms and tilted his head so the other man had easier access to his ear. “Sounds like your reign would be a short one, then.”

“What do I care about the world?” Jon’s voice was barely a murmur, so low it shot straight into Damian’s spine, tingling through him like electricity. “Since I’d have you to keep, pretty bird.”

Damian smiled and turned his head to catch the corner of Jon’s mouth with his lips. Jon smirked and leaned closer, his eyes fluttering closed. And that was the exact moment Damian pulled out the shard of kryptonite from his pocket and swept the legs out from under Jon.

Jon fell on his ass with a grunt, and Damian landed on top of him, straddling his stomach, pinning his arms under his knees.

Damian smiled sweetly down at Jon. “Who’s keeping who, Kent?”

Jon glared up at him but didn’t even try to struggle out, even though he could’ve. “I thought you were going along with that too easily.”

“I don’t love the thought of being kept, no.” Damian leaned closer and planted a chaste kiss on Jon’s pursed, pouting lips. “Keeping myself a powerful Kryptonian like you as a pet, though? That sounds a lot more intriguing.”

Damian slid the shard of kryptonite back into its lead-lined case in his pocket, and Jon immediately shrugged Damian’s knees off his arms, one hand pushing on each knee until his legs were stretched uncomfortably far apart. Jon leered up at him.

“Oh yeah? What would you do with me?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to give you nightmares.” Damian slid out of Jon’s arms, somersaulting backwards just for the fun of it, and rolled onto his feet with fluid grace. He could feel Jon’s eyes on him, hot and hungry.

Damian held his hand out to Jon with a raised eyebrow. “Weren’t we here to see the sights?”

Jon slammed his head on the floor, hard enough to make it crack. He let out a sigh. “Tease.”

Damian held back a stupid little grin.

Jon took the proffered hand and let Damian pretend he was helping Jon get up. He didn’t let go of Damian’s hand once he was on his feet.

“Okay, Dami. What would you like to see first on this totally normal date of ours? There’s an exhibit on insects over there, for some reason. How about that one?”

Damian squeezed Jon’s hand, silently grateful. He didn’t understand why Jon was always so willing to go at his pace, playing along to whatever whims he happened to have, but he did appreciate it.

“I’m fond of insects, yes.”

Jon’s face scrunched up in confusion. “I can’t figure out if you’re calling me an insect or if you just really do like bugs.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Not everything’s about you, Kent.”

Jon brought their hands up and kissed Damian’s knuckles with a beseeching look. “But you are still fond of me, right? Even if I’m not a gross disgusting bug?”

Damian would’ve handed over the whole world to Jon if he looked at him like that. “Yes,” Damian managed to say through a dry throat. “Just slightly less than the average bug, though.”

They went through each and every exhibit in the planetarium with Damian turning on the lights wherever they went. It was surprisingly comfortable. Damian had never really imagined doing mundane things like this with Jon, but he had to admit it was fun looking at fossils together or hearing Jon comment on a cross-section picture of a shark with grossed-out fascination. Once, Damian lost track of time reading the signs on an exhibit about the history of marine studies, and by the time he’d realized how much time he’d wasted, he’d turned around a little flustered, expecting to find a totally bored Jon humoring him, just to see that Jon was also reading the signs, with a look of total concentration.

Damian’s heart was gripped so tightly by emotion that breathing around it was painful. Looking at Jon like this, wearing normal clothes, reading dry informational signs with a small wrinkle of concentration between his furrowed eyebrows, it felt like Damian could see into an alternate universe. One he would’ve given anything to be born into.

Jon noticed him staring and smiled a little self-consciously. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t notice you were done. Were you waiting long?”

Damian shook his head silently, too scared to say anything out loud in case his voice would break.

Jon gave him an odd look. “Okay. There’s only the planetarium left. Still want to go?”

“Yes,” Damian managed to croak out, his voice only a little hoarse. He grabbed Jon’s hand again before the man could say anything else. “Let’s go.” He didn’t want to end this date yet. He probably never wanted to end it.

The planetarium was completely dark, even more so than the other exhibit spaces. It seemed like it’d been made to block out all outside light. When Damian turned on the lights, they found out why.

“Whoa,” Jon said, and Damian fully agreed with the awe in his voice.

The planetarium had been modeled to look like outer space, with models of the planets hanging from the ceiling, forming a solar system. The lights were only a dim background glow emanating from the floors; most of the light was provided by glowing planets and the stars embedded in the ceiling.

Logically, Damian knew it was only paint and light and plastic. He also knew both of them had been to actual space, and so an attraction for children should’ve felt underwhelming. And still, it didn’t.

Jon spun around, taking it all in. Damian didn’t think he even realized how widely he was smiling.

“Oh yeah, I’m actually crushing this date,” Jon declared confidently.

What a moron; Damian had to kiss him.

Damian reached out, and with Jon’s back turned to him, the man didn’t notice him before Damian's arms were wound around his waist. Jon startled at the unexpected contact, as some part of him would likely always perceive Damian as a threat, but relaxed as Damian leaned closer.

Damian had to rise on his tippytoes to reach Jon’s mouth with his own, but Jon obliged him by turning his head to meet Damian in a kiss.

Damian could feel Jon’s lips stretch into a smile under his. “Oh yeah. Crushing it.”

Damian answered that by swiping Jon’s feet from under him. Jon allowed it, but tangled their feet together so they both went down in one heap of tangled limbs. Damian didn’t let go of Jon’s waist even as they landed much too softly to be natural, so presumably Jon had used his powers to cushion their fall.

Jon’s hand came to circle Damian’s back, resting on his ass.

“You know, I think I like this more than real space,” Jon said. “For one, space doesn’t have carpeted floors.”

“I imagine it’s pretty difficult to fuck in space, yes,” Damian said and ground his hips more firmly against Jon.

“Is that what we’re doing, Dami?” Jon asked with a grin. “On the first date, too. I’m not sure regular guy Jon is that much of a slut.”

“Too bad.” Damian put his hands on Jon’s chest to press his back more firmly against the floor and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Because normal guy Damian is exactly that much of a slut.”

Jon tilted his head, and his hair fell into his eyes in a horribly attractive way. “Yeah, I can see the resemblance between you two.”

Damian hooked a finger under the row of buttons and tore them open with one hard yank. Some of the buttons came out flying and clattered away into the dark corners of the exhibition room. “Oh, please, Kent. Let’s not make this a competition. If anyone here is desperate, it’s you.” Damian batted his eyes at the man. “Would you like me to prove it to you?”

Jon shuddered. “Oh, I’d love you to. If you’re not too busy choking on my cock.” Jon shot up in a burst of superspeed, and Damian found himself pressed against the floor, with a now shirtless Jon caging him in between his braced arms. The view of all that bare skin was fantastic.

“Look at you,” Jon murmured and dragged a finger down his clothed chest. “You want it bad.”

Jon’s eyes darkened as Damian grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, writhing a lot more sensually than was actually necessary for the task. “Then why am I still wearing so much fucking clothing, Jon?”

Jon smiled and reached for Damian’s pants, popping the button open without having to take his eyes away from Jon. “God, I ask myself that every day.”

Damian shimmied his pants down, a task which was absolutely impossible to do gracefully. Jon took pity on him and helped pull them off and toss them aside carelessly. A hand curled around Damian’s ankle and pulled his leg up and backwards until it was bent between their bodies, his thigh against his stomach, almost uncomfortably stretched out.

Jon ran a hand up the entire length of Damian’s leg, blue eyes dark and hungry.

“You’re so flexible, I feel like I could spread you out like a doll.” His hand slid upwards to the ankle, and one of his fingers slid under Damian’s sock.

Jon dragged his nail against Damian’s ankle as he dragged the sock slowly off. Damian squirmed from the ticklish feeling.

Jon pulled his sock off so slowly and carefully that Damian couldn’t help but feel oddly naked without it. Jon rubbed his foot between his hands and gave it a hard squeeze.

“You know, I honestly thought your foot fetish was only limited to my boots,” Damian said, feeling a little off-balance about the direction this had taken.

Jon chuckled. “I think I have more of a Damian fetish than a foot fetish. I like to watch you squirm.” A featherlight touch dragged its way up the sole of Damian’s foot, and Damian couldn’t help the involuntary kick at how much that tickled. Jon’s grip tightened, and the edge of his grin was sharp enough to cut yourself on.

“You’re not ticklish, are you, Dami?”

Damian felt the beginnings of a blush on his face and had to tamp down on that reaction immediately. Jon could probably still sense the increase of blood flow or something because his eyes had a horrible knowing glint to them.

“If you tickle me, Jonathan Kent, I’m going to end you.”

“That’d be bad. I’d better not, then.” Jon’s thumb dug deeper into the sole of Damian’s foot, pressing hard as he dragged it across the arch, massaging muscles that were sore from endless days of training and fighting.

Damian blinked, caught somewhere between pleasure and pain. It was strange because neither one of those was necessary sexual in nature. If it wasn’t for the intensely pleased way Jon was looking at him, he didn’t think it’d have been all that different from a regular foot massage.

“Is this better?” Jon asked and ground his thumb deeper into Damian’s foot, right where a tight bundle of nerves was gathered.

Damian hissed, the sensation not at all unpleasant. “It’s-“

Jon leaned down and caught Damian’s mouth in a kiss. Damian could feel a hardening cock pressed up against his ass. When Jon pulled back, Damian grinned lasciviously at him.

“I think the real question is if this is good for you, Jon?” Damian looked at Jon from under his lashes and wiggled his toes. Jon swallowed, hard, and Damian’s eyes tracked the movement of his delicate throat working. “Oh, yes. I think it really is.”

Damian made a show of relaxing his muscles and reached out a hand to play with a strand of Jon’s hair, dragging his nails gently across the other man’s scalp. “Well? I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?”

Jon’s eyes widened, and his hips jerked a little.

“Whatever you want, Dami,” Jon said, his voice just a little hoarse.

Jon’s hands working at loosening all the delicate, hard-to-reach muscles of his feet felt really very nice. It was no effort at all for Damian to let his head fall back and enjoy the sensation of warm hands working out the pains that were so commonplace to him he hardly even noticed them anymore. Jon’s skin was always much warmer than a human’s, like he’d just stepped straight out of direct sunlight, and feeling all that muscled warmness stretching out his tendons was enough to turn Damian’s limbs into jelly.

When Jon’s hands slipped upward to caress his calves and bring his legs over Jon’s shoulders, Damian didn’t protest, just curled his toes so Jon would feel the clench of his leg muscles around him.

Jon turned his head to press a kiss to Damian’s thigh.

Damian smiled. “Get on with it.”

Jon kneeled between Damian’s legs and nudged his thighs a little further apart.

“You wouldn’t happen to be carrying lube in your civvies, would you?” Jon asked with a knowing look.

“In the left pocket of my jeans.”

Jon laughed and dug the bottle out. “God, you are eager, little bird.”

Damian felt a slicked-up finger push into him, gently pushing deeper inside. Damian took a breath and tried to relax himself, easing into the familiar sensation. Jon rubbed a calming thumb across Damian’s hipbone as he worked.

A second finger followed soon, and Jon worked them in and out with the same careful concentration that Damian would’ve used to defuse a bomb.

“Does that feel good?” Jon asked softly and crooked his fingers so his next stroke brushed past Damian’s prostate.

Damian glared at him. “Don’t be mushy.”

Jon’s smile didn’t even shift. “It’s normal guy Jon’s first time with his boyfriend; I’m just in-character. He’s a mushy sort of guy.”

“Boyfriend?” Damian asked haughtily, managing just barely to hold onto his arrogance with the fingers inside, coaching pleasure out of him. “Kind of presumptuous. It’s still our first date.”

“Oh, come on, Dami. Don’t be like that.” Jon added a third finger and shoved them inside with just a bit more force, drawing a gasp from Damian as the sharp bit of discomfort only intensified his pleasure. With Jon, even punishment felt like a reward. “Don’t you like me? Don’t you want me to keep going?” He batted his eyes playfully, working his fingers in deeper, every thrust working at Damian’s prostate. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“You’re so – so goddamn clingy,” Damian bit out, an involuntary moan breaking up his words.

Jon pressed another kiss into Damian’s inner thigh without stopping his fingers for a second. Sharp teeth bit into sensitive skin, and Damian choked on a gasp. “Playing hard to get doesn’t suit you at all, little bird. I prefer you on your back with your legs wide open just like this.”

“And I prefer you when you’re moaning my name, boyfriend.” Damian flexed his legs, still swung over Jon’s shoulders, and dragged him in closer. “So why don’t you get to it.”

Jon’s eyes softened even as he leaned in eagerly. He pulled out his fingers, leaving Damian squirming in discomfort at the sudden feeling of emptiness. The fingers were soon replaced with a large cock prodding at his rim, pushing in slowly and steadily.

Damian pulled at Jon’s hair as the man pushed in until he was seated completely inside Damian, his eyes closed in total concentration. It looked like he had a hard time holding onto his composure at the moment.

Damian clenched down on Jon’s dick and jerked his hips upwards, unwilling to give Jon the moment he so clearly needed.

Jon’s eyes flew open, startled, and Damian yanked at his hair cruelly, pulling at it until Jon followed his lead, leaning forward, closer, until Damian could capture his mouth in a hard kiss.

Damian was almost bent in half like this, with Jon kneeling over him, and the angle of the cock inside felt like it was impaling him the whole way through. It was hard to breathe through the feeling of it just sitting inside him, unmoving and hot as the sun.

Jon grinned, his lips just barely touching Damian’s. “Oh, are you having a hard time, little bird?” He rolled his hips, and it felt like Jon was rearranging his guts. “Would you like me to ease up?”

Damian tried to strangle his moan into Jon’s mouth, but Jon pulled his face back just far enough that Damian couldn’t chase it. The asshole. The sound he made came out high and needy, and Jon laughed at him mercilessly.

“Aw. You’re cute.”

“Fuck you,” Damian panted and tried to pull Jon closer again.

Jon smiled softly down at him but refused to move with Damian’s demanding hands this time. “Well, if you insist.”

Damian was too busy taking cock to roll his eyes, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.

Jon thrust in again, impossibly reaching even deeper than before. Damian could do nothing but cling to Jon’s shoulders and hang on while Jon thrust in again and again. Jon covered Damian's cock with his hand and began pumping it up and down in time with his thrusts. Damian’s hips jerked into the feeling helplessly, his entire body twitching and clenching from the surplus of stimulation. He wasn’t going to last long like this.

Damian had his head thrown back and his eyes closed, not trying particularly hard to bite back the pathetic little whimpers and moans he was making. Jon had heard them all before, and Damian really wasn’t in the right mindset to feel self-conscious. Even still, he could hear Jon’s heavy breathing, Jon’s mouth almost directly on Damian’s ear.

“Fuck, Dami,” Jon panted. He was close, Damian could feel it in the tightening of his muscles. Damian clenched down just to make it that extra bit harder for Jon to hold on. “Ah - Damian.”

Damian turned his head so that the mouth on his ear was now pressed tight against his lips. Jon returned the kiss with fervent passion, willing to take anything to distract himself for a second longer. He didn’t want to come before Damian, how sweet.

Damian began moving his hips faster, clenching down on Jon’s cock. Jon cracked his eyes open just to cast an annoyed glare at Damian; he knew exactly what Damian was doing.

Damian’s smug little smirk stuttered when Jon redoubled his efforts, one of his hands gripping Damian’s hip tightly to better support himself on it, the other hand still pumping Damian’s hard cock.

For a second, Damian forgot all about being an asshole and just sank into a haze of pleasure. His body moved on its own, responding to Jon’s movements, like he could predict every single one of them in advance.

Jon groaned, the entire frame of his lean body going taut. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he just barely held onto his composure. The next thrust of his hips had Damian seeing stars, and the breathy moan that escaped his mouth was pure filth.

They locked eyes, and Damian could see the pleading edge to Jon’s gaze. He really wanted Damian to come first. So committed to making this date something good, something special.

“Dami – please.”

Damian shuddered at that, too overcome by lust to even feel smug. He let himself let go and within seconds he was coming into Jon’s hand. Jon followed him over that edge just seconds after; Damian could hazily feel Jon coming inside him through the deep, contended pleasure thrumming through his veins.

Damian breathed deeply, enjoying the tiny sparks of his post-orgasm still dancing across his nerves. Jon breathed with him, unconsciously timing their rhythms together. Jon’s forehead rested on Damian’s neck, and Damian could feel his wet panting against his skin. It felt surprisingly nice.

After a couple of moments, Jon finally withdrew a little, pulling out of Damian. Damian shuddered at the feeling and the new bit of dull pleasure that that sensation shot through him. He could feel cum dripping out of him, and he was almost aware enough to start feeling bad for whoever had to wash this carpeted floor later.

Jon slid Damian’s legs off his shoulders and gently set them down on the floor before coming to lie next to him. His arms wrapped around Damian’s middle, and he pressed a kiss into Damian’s hair.

Damian hummed, content. “A dinner and a museum, followed by sex under the stars. You’re a cliché, Kent.”

Jon groaned, but the noise was tinged with amusement. “I’m back to Kent again? Must’ve been a really bad date then.”

Damian reached out a hand to run through Jon’s hair, gently untangling the smooth strands under his fingers. “Just the worst.”

It felt like a dream coming true that Damian had never known he had.

Jon turned his head, and although the stars were right there, neither of them was looking at them, too busy staring into each other’s eyes.

“I love you, Jon,” Damian confessed, without meaning to. The words had been burning his heart the whole day, ever since he’d heard the Atlanteans’ declaration and realized they were doomed. And now that they were finally out, there was no taking them back anymore. No pretending his feelings didn’t exist.

Damian Wayne was in love with Jonathan Kent. The world was ending, and one of them was going to die, and Damian Wayne still loved Jonathan Kent.

Jon’s eyes widened in wonder, like Damian had given him the whole world in four words. “I love you too, Damian.” He pressed another kiss into Damian’s hair, his arms squeezing a little tighter around Damian’s waist. “My pretty little bird.” Another kiss, to his temple this time, and Jon sounded so elated he might just never stop. “Dami.”

Damian turned his head to catch that last kiss on his lips. It was okay if Jon never stopped. As long as they both pretended they were just normal people and that the world wasn’t ending, everything was just fine. Damian could take the pain later if he got to have this now. It’s not like he could be ruined any more than Jon had already ruined him.

Later on, after all the kissing, they extricated themselves from the pile of limbs and discarded clothes on the floor. Later, they cleaned themselves in the museum bathroom, laughing about how ridiculous they both looked trying to clean up in a sink.

Jon flew Damian back into Gotham, and Damian clung to him the whole flight there, enjoying the excuse to cling so close to him for a little while longer.

Jon set Damian down on a rooftop at the very edges of Gotham, where Damian had deemed it safest for him to land.

Jon cupped Damian’s face in his hand, and Damian leaned into the inhuman warmth of it, trying to memorize this feeling and take it with him forever.

Jon’s mouth opened, clearly searching for the right words. Damian knew what he wanted to say, and now wasn’t the time for it. Their date was coming to a close. Damian grabbed Jon’s wrist and squeezed it lightly in warning.

“I had a good time, Jon,” Damian said.

Jon’s blue eyes seemed to look right through him. “Do I get a second date?”

Damian smiled despite himself, a sad little thing struggling for life. “You get all of them. Every single moment I have to give.”

Jon closed his eyes. His lower lip wobbled a little, but when he spoke, his voice came out steady and even. “Thank you.”

Damian let go of Jon and took a step backward. It was time to leave; Jon couldn’t stay in Gotham any longer tonight. Jon took the cue and hovered higher into the air, his eyes still lingering on Damian like he never wanted to look away.

“Hey, Dami. No matter how this goes, you were worth it. You always will be.”

Jon flew away before Damian could come up with any kind of an answer, which was probably for the best. Damian felt hollowed out from all the feelings. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl into his bed and just let his brain be empty and silent for a couple of hours.

Damian turned away and pulled out his grapple, the one he’d stashed here for emergencies. He took to flight, the yank of the grapple turning him weightless for just a second, gravity letting go of him for a brief moment that always left him breathless. The second before freefall hit, that was Damian’s favorite.

Just as he was about to fall and swing forward, Damian’s flight was interrupted by something large and solid colliding into him.

Damian struggled instinctively as arms caged him in, squeezing painfully until Damian was gasping for breath he could no longer draw in.

They were hovering in mid-air, a controlled fall forever suspended.

Damian looked up to meet Lord Superman’s impassive eyes.

“Hello, Damian. Enjoy your date?”

Damian strained his partially trapped hand to reach the pocket with kryptonite in it. His lungs heaved and stuttered, his fingers shook, scrabbling uselessly at his jeans, unable to reach the pocket with the way Superman had his arms trapped.

Lord Superman rolled his eyes. “Always a fight with your family.” Superman’s hold on Damian shifted, pulling Damian’s back against his chest. Damian heaved a desperate breath in and scrambled for the kryptonite. Superman was faster; his free forearm wrapped around Damian’s throat and pressed against it with unyielding strength.

Damian clawed at the arm uselessly with his free hand, only barely managing to keep onto his senses enough to still try to reach the kryptonite. Superman had him in a blood choke, he only- he had. Seconds. Left.

“There’ll be no more fighting now,” Superman said, his voice the same deep cadence as Jon’s. “Thank you for making it so easy for me, Damian.” He snorted. “Or what is it Jon calls you?”

Little bird, Jon’s voice said, full of awe.

“Little bird,” Superman said, mocking and cruel.

Damian passed out.