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Jon is having a super boring night. His dad was out, called away on League Business. His mom sent him to his room straight after dinner- without dessert- because he hadn’t finished his book report paper yet on To Kill A Mockingbird.
Logically, Jon knew this was fair.
The report had been assigned weeks ago, and it was due in 2 days.
But I’m almost done! Jon sits huffily in his spinny-chair, attempting to twirl his pen through his fingers like his mom can do so well. AND dessert was supposed to be Grammaw Kent’s apple pie! However, his mom was very firm about no dessert until the report was finished properly, with a handwritten outline before typing it out.
And so, despite being only half a page from finishing his report, Jon is stuck here, stewing in the indignity of it all, mouth totally NOT watering at the thought of sweet apple pie and a scoop of homemade vanilla ice cream… before startling at a sharp tap-tap-tap at his window.
Whipping his head around with a hint of super speed, Jon is only mildly astonished to see his best friend, grumpy-ninja extraordinaire, outside his window on the fire escape… five levels up from the street.
Honestly, Jon’s pretty sure Damian does whatever Damian wants.
This, however, does not clue Jon into exactly what Damian could possibly want right now, on a random Thursday night in the wrong city… glaring at him like an angry old alley cat while gesturing to the window lock.
Oh, right!
Jon rushes over to the window, flying to keep the noise to a minimum, unlatches his window to allow Damian in, and cheers out a quiet, “Dami!”
“Tt-,” is all he gets as an initial reply, Damian maintaining his glower all while gracefully vaulting through the window. Dressed in a long sleeve black turtleneck and black trousers- what a weirdo, isn’t that uncomfortable ? -Damian fluidly creeps across the room and locks Jon’s bedroom door without making any sound. And Jon… well, he lets it happen because it’s Dami. However, if his mom finds out he locked her out of his room, especially when he’s being kinda-sorta punished for not doing his schoolwork properly… Yikes.
Hopefully that won’t happen. Mom was scary intense when she was disappointed.
Jon rubs the back of his head, fluffing up his dark hair and resisting giving Dami a bear hug in greeting. The other boy settles in Jon’s abandoned chair with mild distaste. “Dami,” Jon repeats, this time a little more hesitantly, floating over toward his friend, “why are you here? I mean, not that I mind or anything- I’m actually super happy to see you, it’s been forever - and I’ve been asking dad when we might be able to hang out again- but he always says you and Batman are busy and-”
“Tt-,” repeats Damian, arms remaining crossed as they’d been since he entered the room and settled in the spinny-chair, notably NOT spinning. Jon wonders if Dami considers that undignified. “I’m boycotting the Manor.”
What, Jon thinks to himself.
“What,” Jon speaks aloud once his mouth catches up with his brain.
“Father has decided I require a ‘break’ from patrols,” Damian speaks with venom, obviously upset with the thought of being benched. “He’s under the impression that I am not receiving the recommended amount of rest and worries that it will somehow affect my ‘development.’ Alfred, of course, is siding with Father,” Damian huffs out an indignant breath, “which is hypocritical considering the amount of times Pennyworth has told Father he really should get more rest.”
Now, Jon knows this is a serious conversation. Jon should especially tune in and focus considering Dami slipped and called Mr. Alfred by his first name initially rather than consistently calling the man Pennyworth. Jon KNOWS that Dami is legitimately upset over something that is basically his father being the pot calling the kettle black. However-
All Jon can imagine in his head is Alfred the Cat scolding Batman after patrol. This metamorphosizes into a whole montage of adorable and ridiculous imagery as Damian continues, with Alfred the Cat in place of Alfred the Butler. “Pennyworth always greets us when we return,” cue the cute little cat sitting with a tray of snacks in the bat cave , “and hovers about, making sure I don’t linger to assist with the investigations,” oh man, now Alfred the Cat is herding an angry Dami toward the stairs . “Granted I don’t always see how Pennyworth attempts to get father to come upstairs,” Alfred the cat meowing assertively toward a Bat-blob, “but I’ve seen enough to know Father never listens .”
At that last word, the silly images running through Jon’s head dissipates, hearing a slight crack in his friend’s voice. Now, no matter how much Damian likes to tease that Jon is much too simple-minded, Jon prides himself on reading his best friend’s emotions. And in this moment, Jon understands the true issue that brought his friend here.
Dami is mad that Mr. Bruce wouldn’t listen. Now, Jon doesn’t often speak to Mr. Bruce without Damian present, and usually he’s way more focused on enjoying his time with his friend over speaking to his friend’s dad- even if said dad is The Batman. However, Jon has overheard enough of his own dad’s frustrated conversations with his mom about Mr. Bruce to discern that Mr. Bruce is indeed stubborn. And apparently, a bit of a butthead.
Jon's dad’s words, not his.
So Jon does what he does best when he knows Dami is upset. He perches on the edge of his desk and places a hand on his friend’s shoulder, and just smiles at Dami. Damian lowers his gaze to the floor, unwilling to allow Jon to see any moment of weakness on his face, but over time Jon feels the tension slowly leave Damian’s shoulder.
Jon sits quietly, offering comfort in a way that won’t rile his friend’s upset feelings further, until Damian lets out a subtle sigh and shakes off Jon’s hand. Jon smiles wider, considering Mission: Comfort Dami a success. After all, Dami only shakes him off like this when he feels like he’s reached “emotional equilibrium-” which is a term Jon only knows because Damian likes to tell Jon how Jon will never achieve it. Which- rude.
But that’s Damian. Jon wouldn’t have him any other way.
Jon decides this is the perfect moment to begin Mission: Make Dami Happy . The best way to make Damian feel happy is for Jon to give him a little innocent, light-hearted teasing for Damian to react to with Dami-level superiority.
Jon morphs his smile to something decidedly more impish as Damian finally turns to look at him again, arms still crossed. “Oh Dami,” he cries, flinging himself toward his friend, mindful of his strength but placing just enough oomph into his muscles to make them difficult to get out of, “you know you can always come here for a sleepover!” He lifts a now squirming, indignant Damian from the chair and twirls them about the room, ignoring Damian’s exclamations in an unknown language. Probably cursing me out, so silly! “Your hero, Superboy, will always come to your rescue!”
“Tt-!” Damian pulls a special ninja maneuver and squirms free of Jon’s arms, still managing to land lightly with one hand on the ground in a crouch, “you little-!”
However, whatever Damian is about to say is uninterrupted by the door handle jiggling. Slowly, purposefully jiggling.
Oh nononono.
“Jon,” comes Lois’s calm voice from the other side of the door. “I suggest you open this door in the next 5 seconds. 5, 4, 3, 2…”
Just as she makes it to one, Jon is opening the door, panicked and fretful, with Damian not even bothering to hide. My best friend’s a goner , Jon laments, and I probably am too.
Lois takes in the situation within her son’s room, Bruce’s mini-me sulking behind her son’s back but standing close behind him as her sweet, so-in-trouble boy looks up at her with doe eyes. “Well,” Lois drawls out, “I’m waiting for an explanation, boys.”
“Well,” Jon beings, ruffling his hair nervously, “you see mom- I was just- I was doing my report- And I’m almost done! But then, Dami- well he came by for a visit- we’d talked about a sleepover a while back- he just-” Jon rambles along for a moment, talking quickly but really, truly terrible about figuring out a way of explaining how his friend just showed up at his window.
On a school night.
“Tt-,” Damian steps up to Jon’s side and crosses his arms, looking Lois straight in the eye. “I’m boycotting the Manor.”
Lois just gives a slow blink before breathing in- 5, 4, 3, 2, 1- and out. “I see. And does your dad know about this boycott?”
“Of course not,” Damian replies, lifting his chin. Jon attempts to subtly catch his mother's gaze from behind a hand raised as though he’s face-palming. Which, he definitely is face palming, but he’s also trying to give his mom his BEST puppy eyes while using the hand opposite of Damian to trail a little path down his cheek. Lois seems to understand the message of Dami is SAD, as well as Bruce’s mannerisms enough to understand his mini-me is likely shutting out all emotions.
Shifting her eyes back to Damian’s face, she lets out a little huff. “You know I will have to inform your dad about you coming over here for the night?” At Damians mild eye roll and affirming nod, she gives out yet another sigh before gazing between the boys. “Well, I guess there’s nothing for it. Why don’t you boys join me for some of Ma Kent’s famous Apple Pie a la Mode?”
Jon’s eyes widen with wonder before he bursts out with absolute glee, floating a little above the ground in excitement, “REALLY?!” At his mom’s affirmative, he whoops and grabs Dami’s hand, not noticing how the other boy gains a light blush despite Dami’s ever-present scowl. “Oh man, DAMI, you don’t understand how AMAZING this pie is! Gramma doesn’t slice her apples, she grates them and dries them a little somehow, so the pie is just a thick, delicious piece of HEAVEN! Dad flew it over for us last night, so it’s fresh-!”
Jon continues to ramble about the marvelous dessert awaiting them as Lois retreats to the kitchen to heat the pie and scoop the ice cream, already dialing Alfred to make sure the man and Damian’s father know their boy is in good hands. Damian continues to allow the other boy to pull him along, not withdrawing his hand as he would usually do, enjoying the heat of his friend’s hand.
He does not , however, enjoy when Jon bodily lifts him and places Damian into a seat at the dining table.
“Honestly,” Damian hisses, “I can sit in a seat by myself!”
Jon puts on a sheepish smile and ducks his head, “I know, I know… I’m just really glad you came home tonight is all, Dami.”
Home, hm? Damian ponders for a moment, looking around the Metropolis apartment, cozy and full of handmade quilts. He even says some of what must be Jon’s drawings hung up on the refrigerator. Though Damian’s home is vastly different, he can appreciate the more humble, warm atmosphere of the Kent home. Damian glances discreetly over at the boy that sat directly to his right, practically vibrating with excitement as his mother brings out two generous helpings of apple pie, chatting a mile a minute until he finally begins inhaling his portion.
Maybe home can be anywhere I’d like.