Work Text:
1. Cake
It was about a few weeks after the official founding of the Justice League. Everything was set up. Including J’onn’s new home. The watchtower was empty and far too big. You could walk half of it without even running into another soul. And it echoed horribly, each sound traveling to the far reaches of the room. A part of him held out hope that they would end up filling the space. That eventually it wouldn’t feel so barren. But it was only a small part of him.
The one exception to that was the Flash, who seemed to be everywhere all of the time. It was unusual to go more than a few hours without at least seeing a red blur whiz by. Depending on his mood, his presence ranged from obnoxious to comoforting. Today it was somewhere in the middle. Not outright unwanted, but J’onn couldn’t say he wouldn’t prefer to be alone. Still, Flash had sat down next to him, and he didn’t have the heart to send him away.
“So, J’onn.” He said, fiddling with a loose piece of wood on the table. “Did you do much cooking on Mars?”
He shrugged. “Admittedly the cuisine back home is a bit more limited. More efficient. More nutritious. But more limited.” As he spoke, an unsettling revelation came upon him.
Nobody would ever be able to cook him martian cuisine again. He could try to replicate the few dishes he had bothered to learn. But the chances of being able to recreate them on a different planet, with completely different ingredients, wasn’t likely. The best he could hope for was that he might be able to find a similar enough substitute. It was almost enough to send him spiraling, but he could hold out until the end of the conversation. If it came soon enough.
Flash went uncharacteristically silent for a moment, but he spoke before J’onn could try to figure out the reason. “Well if you liked those cookies, I bet you’d love a chocolate cake.” And then he sped off. It was true. He did like the cookies.
When he returned, he was holding a brown cube with a lighter brown substance on the top. Flash put it in front of him and didn’t say another word. Not wanting to disappoint him, J’onn took a bite. And another. And another.
“Hmm.” He looked down to see an empty plate. “It’s good.”
2. Scrambled Eggs
It was a few days after the Amazo incident. He had recovered. Mostly. Not that there was much to recover from. Unlike everyone else, he hadn’t been injured. But somehow he was the one everyone was checking in on. Admittedly, he had overtaxed his psychic abilities, had a nervous breakdown, and shut off all communication, but that hardly meant anything.
He needed a distraction. That was all. Perhaps a nice meal. Something simple that even he could make by himself. Eggs were easy enough. He’d seen Flash make it at least twice by now. All he had to do was put an egg in the pan.
Ten minutes later, the kitchen was smeared with egg yolks and flour. The only thing he’d managed to make was failure. Really, this was all the humans’ fault. If they had been half as advanced as they claimed to be, they would have made food far more accessible to make. But as it stood, he had no choice but to request assistance.
Finding Flash was easy. All he had to do was look in the cafeteria, where he was downing his second pizza of the day. It took an embarrassingly long time for Flash to notice that J’onn was standing behind him. And it was even more embarrassing when he had to reveal his reason for being there. “I don’t know how to make- that egg dish you made.”
Flash smiled at him, clearly trying to hide his amusement. J’onn could hardly blame him. A powerful telepath, reduced to asking for someone to assist him with one of earth’s most basic tasks. But he had the sense not to say anything, leading J’onn into the kitchen instead.
“Don’t worry, it’s pretty easy.” He said, right before he opened the door to the gargantuan mess. “Once you get the hang of it, I mean!” Flash hastily corrected himself. It didn’t fool J’onn, but an attempt was certainly made.
“Look, just crack the egg. Mix it around. Add what you want. Then take it out when it’s cooked.” Within the minute, J’onn noticed at least five major mistakes he had made. And worse yet, Flash was right. It was easy. It was something a child could have done. But him? No. Maybe Earth was simply not navigable for someone like him. Someone who’d only spent a fraction of his long lived life upon its surface.
Even so, he did his best to follow along. “How do I know if it’s cooked?”
“See how it’s firmer now?”
It was, in fact, firmer. The heat had solidified it, turning it into something that could be picked up. Parts of it were turning golden brown, while others remained gooey. If nothing else, this embarrassment would result in a pleasant meal. The scent was already beginning to fill the room.
Flash ran to the fridge and returned with a bag of shredded cheese. “Want cheese in it?”
“No thank you.”
Flash returned the cheese and came back with sliced peppers, holding them questioningly.
“Just the egg, please.” J’onn shook his head and Flash shrugged.
“Suit yourself.” He watched the egg for another minute, tapping his fingers against the counter as he did so. Occasionally he’d stir it and break it into chunks. Then, he scraped it onto a plate, put a small garnish on it, and presented it to J’onn.
It smelled delightful. Perhaps it was only because he was hungrier than he thought he was, but J’onn would never admit that. He ate the biggest chunk he could find. “That good?” Flash asked.
He nodded, just managing to keep a smile from his face. “Yes. It is.”
He might never understand how to cook, but he understood how to eat. If that was as close to humanity as he ever got, that would be acceptable.
3. Granola Bar
“Here.” Flash threw him a granola bar. It was his favorite kind, the one with peanut butter and chocolate chunks. But today he was sure that it would taste like ash. He was half-convinced that after today, everything would be just a bit duller.
They’d just come back from the mission, everybody doing their typical routines in a daze. Writing reports, hanging up equipment, doing anything but acknowledging what had happened. Perhaps they didn’t need to. Superman was dead. Disintegrated by Toyman. What could anyone say after that? They’d have to find words. To speak at the funeral, to rebuild what was left of their family, to move on.
J’onn was tired of moving on.
A couple of weeks later, they’d realize they didn’t need to move on. That Superman was alive, simply lost in time. But that day was yet to come. And they had no way of knowing that it would come.
“I’m not hungry.” He said, ignoring the bar. It was only half a lie. He didn’t truly feel anything at the moment. But if he really paid attention, he could feel the aching in his stomach and the weakness in his limbs.
“You have to eat.” Flash insisted, which was unfortunately true. He needed less food than a human. But he did need food. Still, he wanted nothing to do with it right now.
When J’onn didn’t answer, Flash sat down next to him. The second he got close, J’onn could feel a wave of despair. He never intentionally read his teammate’s minds, but such strong emotions were near impossible to block out. And he could tell that Flash wanted the same thing he did, to seclude himself. To pretend none of this was happening.
But he didn’t run away and hide. He picked up the granola bar and pressed it into J’onn’s hand “If you don’t eat now, your body will make time for you to eat later. Trust me. That’ll just make it worse.”
Reluctantly, J’onn unwrapped the granola bar and ate it. Just like he expected, it tasted like nothing. But he had to eat.
“This has been an awful day.” He whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
Nevertheless, Flash responded. “It really has been.” Silently, he pulled J’onn into a hug that both of them needed equally.
4. Creme Brûlée
“Hey..” Flash usually bounded up to people, exhibiting a contagious excitement. But today he was hesitant. Not to an extreme degree. He was still comparatively peppy when put against the other leaguers. But to somebody who knew him, the difference was stark. “I wanted to thank you. For not throwing a fit about the whole, disobeying orders thing.”
Ah. The incident with Mister Miracle and Big Barda. Wally had disobeyed his orders not to intervene in a situation. But he did. And in doing so, he de-escalated the conflict while saving an innocent life.
J’onn smiled at him. “I’m glad you disobeyed. If the justice league was made up of perfect soldiers who never disagreed, we would be lost.” Wally smiled back in response, and it was then that J’onn realized he was hiding something behind his back.
Wally pulled out a small ceramic dish. “Well, I made some creme brûlée.” The sugar at the top was crystalized, forming a brown-ish shell. And beneath that was a custard, no doubt sweetened beyond what was typical of such a dish. That much was obvious when Flash was cooking. But that was a trait the two of them shared, so he wasn’t about to complain.
He graciously accepted the gift. “Isn’t that hard to make?”
“Believe it or not, I’ve sort of been getting into cooking. Got a bit more of a disposable income now. Not Batman money, but it’s money.” And from there, the previous was was forgotten about. And if not, it wasn’t brought up again.
5. A Second Cake
It was a few days after he had left the league. He wasn’t sure if it would be permanent. If he’d return as a part time member later. If he’d come back in full force. Or if he’d never come back at all. But he did know that Flash was standing outside his new apartment, a box in his hands, knocking at the door. “The new place is nice.”
He’d shown up in his least conscious civilian clothes. “I’m guessing you don’t want me to broadcast it.
J’onn nodded. It wasn’t that everything would be ruined if anyone found out about his identity. But it would be more complicated. Everyone would know that he was not one of them. The old layer of isolation he always felt would resurface. Maybe one day he’d change his mind. But that day was not today. “I’d prefer not. I’ll tell anyone I want to know.”
“Well, moving to another country is gonna be an adjustment,” With a grin, Flash opened the box. It was a small cake with the words, ‘Housewarming’ written on it. Judging from the crumbs at the bottom, it was chocolate. His favorite. Flash put the box on the table. “But good food is worldwide.”
“Indeed.” He paused. “Except Britain.”
“Ha! What is that, the third joke you’ve cracked?”
Flash came back at least once every month, called every week, and texted every other day. So even if he never came back to the league, he wouldn’t be losing his friends.
+ 1 Sandwich
In the end, he did return to the watchtower. Not as a full time member, but he was always on call for emergencies. And he’d forgotten how much he enjoyed simply roaming the watchtower. Talking with friends and watching the protectors of earth go about their day.
But not everyone was having a good day, as evidenced from the waves of panic he was picking up through his telepathy. Not changing his facial expression in the slightest, he floated down the hall to the source of the pain. But not before stopping at the kitchen to pick something up.
Flash was in the corner of one of the storage rooms, breathing heavily and curled up in the fetal position. Tears were streaming down his face. He didn’t look at J’onn when he came into the room. And J’onn didn’t say anything. He just pushed a plate towards Wally.
“It is a sandwich.” He said, though it hardly needed explanation. It was no culinary feat. Just some ham and cheese. But Flash smiled nevertheless.
“Looks great J’onn. Thanks.”
And the two of them sat together for some time.