Chapter Text
Summer nights in Gotham were weird. On the streets it practically looked like day; the sky turning a kind of dark sandy colour that had everyone pulling their curtains shut so they could get some peaceful sleep.
But up here, on the tallest building in the city, it was pitch-black. As if Damian had breached some kind of barrier as he climbed the walls and took his seat at the edge. As if he had been invited to see the true sky, whilst everyone down on the ground only got to see the pollution.
He let himself lean forwards until it felt like he could fall any minute, heart speeding up minutely.
It was anxiety-inducing, knowing he could jump at any moment. The only thing standing between his life and death was him.
The letter he had tucked into his front pocket weighed him down, and for a second he lost balance, as the weight of the swooping letters seemed to double.
Falling was an old friend. Since he was born he had always been told he had to fall before he could master something. It's why all of his training lessons started with at least two hours of him failing at the task, the level he needed to reach set way too high for his skill. In the last five minutes he would be allowed a win, before it would start over again, and he would fall.
And fall.
His heart was beating out of control now, as he let himself fall. He would save himself, of course he would, he had been falling all his life, it would not be what killed him. But for the moment, he enjoyed the release of the anxiety, of knowing he had his own life in his hands, only he could save it.
Except, apparently, Jonathan Kent. Who had never cared for Damian's preconcieved notions, and always did as he pleased, no matter what.
One second his heart was falling out of his chest, and then he was being held in the arms of someone else, face pressed solidly into a white t-shirt. Damian's boots caught slightly in one of the holes on his jeans, causing it to rip a bit. It all happened so quickly he barely had time to register he was being carried until he was already being set down again, feet firmly placed back on the roof.
"Are you crazy!" Jon shouted, it wasn't much of a question with the way he continued speaking afterwards, not letting Damian get a word in, "You could have died! You almost did! If I hadn't been there to save you, you would've been dead. You can't just die Damian!"
He was panting, face as red as his eyes as he shook. It was as if he had been the one falling.
Damian scoffed, crossing his arms, "I was not going to die,"
"You're human! Humans don't survive a fall from this height!"
"I was going to save myself, don't be stupid Kent,"
In two quick steps Jon had eliminated all distance between them again, and had their chests pressed tightly together as he wrapped his arms around him.
Damian sighed, although they had only been friends for a couple of years, he was quickly growing used to Jon's need for physical contact. It worked out quite well, as Damian often found himself unable to use his words to console him, and so opening his posture and bracing for impact was always a quick way to get Jon to feel better. He raised his arms so he could bury his hands in Jon's soft curls, switching between scratching at his scalp and pulling at his curls in a way that was sure to make Jon boneless and much more agreeable. It had often helped Damian win their discussions, and it would help him again tonight.
"Why would you do that?" Jon asked, voice small as he briefly tightened his hold.
Silently, Damian handed him the letter, forcing himself to disengage from the hug.
Jon was a loud reader; he would mouth the words to himself and follow along the page with his finger, copying the slope of the letter when the handwriting got a bit too difficult to parse. It helped Damian to know exactly where he was.
My dearest Damian, Jon mouthed a small smile appearing, as if the thought of Damian could bring joy.
As if just reading his name could make him happy.
As you well know, I cannot tell you any specifics, but I will be visiting Gotham in one week, please, meet up with me.
You know where.
I cannot wait to see you, and shall be counting down the days.
Your mother.
Jon's eyes snapped up, mouth still open from when he had mouthed the word mother, he reread the last bit a couple of times before finally looking up again.
"Talia is coming? Here?" he asked, looking around as if she would suddenly turn up.
"Tt, yes," Damian shrugged.
"And you're... unhappy?" he squinted, looking confused.
"No." It even surprised him, how quick he was to dismiss the notion. "I just... I want it to be perfect,"
He looked away, face heating up as he heard how childish he sounded.
"Oh Dami,"
There it was, that kindness that Jon just exuded. It was impossible to get away from, and something in him twisted whenever he was hit with the full force of it.
"She has been busy, and I need to show her that she made the right choice, leaving me here," He bit his lip, "I don't want her to worry, and- I would like it if I could enjoy my time with her, however limited it may be,"
He had no warning before he was once again enveloped in a hug, and all he could do was sigh as his vision was blocked by darkness.
At some point he would have to teach him how to communicate in something that wasn't hugs.
"I'll help! Don't you worry about a single thing, I'll be here the whole time!" he beamed, almost floating with excitement.
Damian laughed, a real, genuine laugh that had him willingly curling into the hug.
"Sure, hayseed,"
Weirdly enough, it helped. Just the thought that Jon would be there, should he fall again. Yes, he could save himself, but it was nice to know he didn't have to.
"I promise, I'll be right here,"
"...thank you,"
And suddenly he couldn't imagine speaking to his mother without Jon right beside him. Couldn't imagine pouring two cups of tea when it should be three, couldn't imagine sitting with his mother as he told her about his life, seeing that small smile she got when she was proud but couldn't show it, without Jon there, to make him laugh, to make the stories better.
A week later they were back at a different rooftop, the sky was just as dark as it had been the night Damian had shown Jon the letter. They were huddled closely together, shoulders brushing as they looked out onto the city, not speaking as they waited for Talia to appear.
"Damian." Her voice was strong as always, commanding attention without even trying, and Damian whipped around faster than he ever had before.
She was as beautiful as ever, and his fingers itched to run at her, throw himself into her arms and finally inhale the scent of jasmine he had only gotten hints of from her letters.
"Mother," he said instead.
She looked behind him briefly before letting her gaze rest solely on him, "And hello to your little friend too,"
"Hello!" Jon said, waving before he, rather clumsily, pushed Damian hard so he was practically tripping towards his mother.
Talia caught him easily, sweeping him into her arms and squeezing once before she let go again.
"I thought this would be a family reunion." she raised a brow down at Damian as she pointedly looked at Jon, who didn't even have the decency to look chastised or upset about having pushed him.
"Jon is family," Damian said. He wasn't sure she would understand, the way Jon had helped him find a place in the world, how they had barely known each other and he could already see how he had molded his life to fit Jon's.
"Well, he is neither related to you by blood nor legal bonds, so he is not the type of family I wish to see,"
"Actually-" Damian began, panicked at the thought of having to leave Jon behind.
"-We're married!" Jon interrupted.
Talia blinked, once, twice.
"Pardon?"
"Yes, it's very new, you're the first to know,"
Never let it be said Damian was bad at improvisation, so quickly, he pulled Jon closer to him, intertwining their hands, "I love him," he said, squeezing Jon's hands tight when he let out a squeak.
"I... did not think America allowed marriages this young,"
"That is why we are married under false identities," Damian nodded once, sharply.
"Yes, I could not bare to wait, really, I was the one who pushed this," Jon said, "Damian, of course, wanted to tell you-"
"-But Jon was very persuasive, and I accepted,"
She seemed to digest the information for a bit before a huge smile spread on her face, "You say I am the first to know?"
They looked at each other for a second before nodding.
She quickly pulled both boys under her arms and started walking, chattering on about the vow renewal she would plan for them, so they could do it the right way when they turned eighteen.
After his mother had gone home, the boys spent the rest of their night establishing fake identities that were married, and argueing over who got to keep their fake last name.