damian wayne runs away from home quite often.
jon kent receives a lot of night-time visits.
Stupid, fools, the entire lot of them. Damian couldn’t believe it. They were all protecting that pathetic excuse for a human. That was the exact opposite of what they stood for, wasn’t it? Defend the innocent, bring justice to the criminals who ran around, acting as if they owned Gotham City. They didn’t. This place belonged to him. Not them.
He heard a minuscule beep, and remembered to yank out the comm in his ear, crushing it with the heel of his sneaker. What he couldn’t break, par Oracle’s insistence that they didn’t stop functioning when someone socked you right where the little device was located, he pushed off the building. He had cleared himself of any tracking devices right when he exited the Cave. It was a miracle that he didn’t do the same to the comm, but it received the same treatment as all the others, just at a later time.
He scoffed, the air out of his mouth turning into a billow of cloud with the way the temperature was dropping. Gotham was always chillier at night, even without the threat of winter coming. He was grateful for the cloak that enveloped his frame, keeping him warm, or in a more accurate manner, warmer. It didn’t do much against the cold.
He had gotten pretty far already, since at least a half of it was by one of his father’s precious bikes. He had crashed it somewhere, not caring in the slightest. He was leaving Gotham, and Wayne Manor was no longer visible, that is, if he actually looked back.
He ran, jumping across the rooftops without hesitance. This was his home…or was it? He shook his head at his thoughts as if trying to get them out. Ridiculous.
Run, run, run, that was all he did. Normally, he would have gotten tired by now but his energy remained considering his adrenaline, left over from the fight that had exploded between him and his father. Along with the breeze nipping at his cheeks, it numbed him.
If you asked him, he didn’t know where he was running to. But no one did, so he continued his escapade. He found one of his cycles hanging in the alley below him, he was tempted for a moment but knew it contained yet another tracker, so he passed on, forgetting.
His mind was eerily quiet as he exited the city that he protected.
There was the familiar setting of land once he had separated himself enough from the over-populated and ever-polluted Gotham. He scampered up a tree that was still sturdy but soon to show signs of age.
His gloves cupped at the seam of the window that kept insects from crawling in through the tiny crack that was at the base, ready to open it and slip inside.
What was he doing here?
He paused at the sudden thought. It had been the first one of those in a while. He couldn’t answer it, however, and so he pushed it to the back of his head to remain for some soul-searching time later on. Eh, probably not, ever.
‘‘-Tt-’‘ The window had been left unlocked. Good for him, but idiotic for the boy inside the bedroom he was technically breaking into. Not that he thought of it that way, of course. This was a…house call. Yes, a house call.
He went inside with a low whoosh, looking around the room he had entered. It wasn’t messy, but it wasn’t necessarily clean either. Just enough so a boy’s mother wouldn’t pester, although there would be a few ill gazes.
His focus landing on a shaggy haired teen, who had his face buried in his pillow, his body moving slightly with every breath.
‘‘Hmm, is this a bad time for you? Should I come back on Monday morning then?’‘ Damian replied with a sneer.
Jon groaned, lifting his face up from the pillow, and taking a glance at the shadowed figure standing in the corner of his bedroom. Somehow seeming much more alert than he had been a simple five seconds ago.
Damian removed his gloves and mask, things that seemed pointless here. He clenched and un-clenched his fists multiple times to get the feeling back into them.
‘‘What happened?’‘ The blue eyed boy leaned against the wall behind his bed, patting the spot next to him, although that never worked. This time wasn’t any different it seemed as Damian paced the perimeter of his room, completely ignoring his suggestion.
‘‘They’re imbeciles!’‘ A burst of rage seemed to suddenly explode from Robin, his hands gesturing wildly to emphasize every word that came out of his mouth.
‘‘Are they now, Dami.’‘ Jon said smoothly, knowing the slightest hint of anything could set the other’s anger on him instead. ‘‘Quiet down, alright.’‘
‘‘Yes, yes they are.’‘ Damian huffed. ‘‘I was working with father on a case, and he wanted me to scare one of the men so they’d leave town along with their business. Drop a smoke bomb or something of the like. That was nothing. This man, he, he did unspeakable things toward several animals. He deserved a reckoning and I was that.’‘
Now Jon was a little frightened, that could either mean his partner had roughed said man up a bit, or gone the whole nine yards, death and all.
‘‘What did you do?’‘ His voice came out more stern than he had meant for it to be, and Damian raised an eyebrow.
‘‘What did I do?’‘ The costume clad vigilante laughed, one without any humor, dry and bitter. ‘‘I made him pay for his sins.’‘
Jon opened his mouth to say something but Damian held up a hand to silence him.
‘‘I didn’t kill him, Jon. I wanted to but I didn’t. I came pretty close though and you know how everyone is about that.’‘ The Arabian male seemed sad, if anything, just a hint.
The son of Superman extended his hands up and Damian relented, he looked weakened. Damian sat down in silence and Jon shifted around to give him room to himself, but a tanned hand gripped his wrist.
‘‘No.’’ A single word uttered.
‘‘No, what?’‘ Jon spoke, confused.
A shake of his head.
Jon sighed, shuffling forward and gently cradling the scarred hands that were gripping him, their hold released but Jon didn’t let go.
‘‘You did good, okay? Understand?’‘ He meant it. He knew how brutal Damian could be and what it meant for him to go against his basic programming.
A hesitant nod.
“Well, I’m proud of you.’‘
Damian gave him a wide-eyed look, one that was rare when it came to the youngest Wayne.
‘‘I’m also extremely tired, and although I enjoy our talks, I need my sleep so can I go to bed?’’ A yawn slipped out of his mouth.
‘‘Yeah, I’ll get going.’‘ Damian was already putting his mask on. Not his physical one. A sort of look that passed over his entire face, making him cold to everyone.
Now it was Jon’s turn to raise an eyebrow.
‘‘Say what now? You’re staying.’‘
‘‘But-’‘ Damian began.
‘‘It’s late and mom would kill me if I let you go like this.’‘ He interrupted. ‘‘You know where the PJs are at, grab yourself a pair and get into bed before I change my mind or dad does one of his ‘checkups’.’‘
‘‘–Tt–I’m not gonna fit.’’
‘‘So? When has that ever stopped us before.’‘
Damian rolled his eyes and Jon grinned. That was good. It meant that he was coming back to himself. Superboy laid down on his side facing the wall, listening to the rustling of the multiple layers of Robin’s costume being removed, more rustling.
Tomorrow, Damian would go back home like he always did. There was no need to discuss that.
After a bit, there was a small dip in the bed from new weight being placed onto it, and he could feel Damian’s warmth pressed up behind him. He promptly turned around, placing his ear right up against the other’s chest, hearing the thump of his heart-beat. It was soothing. A lullaby. It was what he tuned into, all the way across to Gotham, to help him sleep through the night. Damian sighed, but for once it wasn’t in annoyance, but bliss.
He had the vague sense of a arm around him but the comforting darkness was already enveloping him.