Chapter Text
Jason unlocks his door and braces against the doorknob to kick his boots off. He freezes mid-motion. It takes a second to realize, because the guy is such a splitting image of Clark. Without the stupid costume no one would be able to tell them apart.
Superboy-Prime.
The asshole who punched reality apart is casually floating a foot in the air in the middle of his apartment, flipping through his copy of Frankenstein. He doesn’t even remember where he put that thing.
“Wow, this is a rough read.”
Right. This guy has an obsession with comic books, doesn’t he? It’s one of two things everyone whines about now. Psychopath and obnoxious nerd. Jason sighs and steps inside, dropping his stuff on the kitchen counter.
“Not enough pictures for you?”
Prime looks up and grins. “So you’ve heard of me?”
“Who hasn’t?”
He frowns, for just a moment, then snaps the book shut and places it down on the coffee table. Interesting.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m real popular lately. I wasn’t sure, ‘cause you weren’t too important in the capital ‘E’ Event stuff.” He nods to himself, crossing his legs in the air. What? “Which is a shame, y’know. They never know what to do with you. How was the tournament, by the way?”
He snaps, “Can you get the hell out of my apartment?”
Prime drops down with the tap of his boots. “Listen, I’ll be out of your hair in a sec. I just gotta ask…”
He puffs his cheeks out and crosses his arms, choosing his words carefully. Not his usual MO from what Jason understands.
“You’re a lot less angry about this than I thought you’d be.” His hands fly up. “Not that I subscribe to the whole angry Robin thing-”
Jason rolls his eyes, forcing himself to relax and lean against the counter. “What else can I do other than tell you to fuck off? You’ve literally killed everyone before, you’re Superman on steroids.” God, he hates this multiversal bullshit.
Prime frowns. “I didn’t kill everyone…”
“Amazing. Congrats. Why are you here?”
Prime collapses onto the couch like he owns the place and Jason has to force himself to turn around and act like this is normal. It’s a struggle, but the last thing he needs is to piss off Superboy-Prime. Jason isn’t an innocent lamb, not by any stretch of the imagination, but turning his back to a maniac like that would be difficult for anyone.
As if facing him head-on would change the outcome of a fight.
Instead of thinking too hard about that, he starts rooting around in his cupboards for some tea leaves. Brewing tea has become a soothing routine over the years. It’s something that reminds him of home without all the pain that comes along with it. Well, most of the pain anyway.
“I just wanted some advice. I already asked Damian and we’re kinda friends now-” Jason highly doubts that. “-but he’s vaguely fourteen and I’m vaguely twenty so it’d be cool to talk to someone my age.”
Fuck, he hopes this asshole leaves soon. This entire situation reminds him of Dick sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong, annoying his hapless victim until he gets bored or tires himself out.
If Dick had powers that equated to a god. Maybe that’s a worse universe than this one, actually.
“I mean, technically you’re not my age ‘cause of the retcon stuff. And the pocket universes, but that’s a whole different lore dump-”
He finally finds the tea tin, which got crammed into the back of the cupboard at some point, and cracks it open. Empty. Great.
“And by the way, I do have friends and a new love interest. Everyone likes me. Handsome, charming, tragic backstory, the whole package.”
He doesn’t have any tea bags, because Alfred would kill him if he ever found out. He’s not taking his chances with that shotgun. The man’s scarier than Batman will ever be.
“But you had your own redemption arc and wow, what a bumpy ride. Under the Red Hood is a masterpiece, though. Normally I hate the gritty comics, but when it’s good, it’s good. You’re welcome for that, by the way.”
He does a quick mental calculation. He should have enough money for rent this month even if he splurges on the expensive stuff. Not that he’ll ever be broke broke. Billionaires are good for something, after all, and he honestly deserves twice his inheritance for the shit he’s been through.
“Are you even listening to me?”
He grabs his wallet and keys off the counter. “No.”
“Where are you going?”
“You better be gone by the time I get back.” He pulls his boots on and ties two firm knots.
“Or what,” comes that stupid smug voice. Amateur. Jason has an entire basketball team of extended family, all of them more annoying than the last. “You gonna take out the green rock? Fun fact, Kryptonite from this universe doesn’t work on me.”
Jason snorts. “You’re so obvious it’s not even funny. Your weakness isn’t Kryptonite or magic.” He flips the bird over his shoulder and slams the door shut behind him. “It’s being ignored.”
“A little advice from me? If you have something iconic going on, keep it.” Prime gestures at his head and mimes putting on a helmet. He’s in civvies this time, a simple shirt and jeans combo, with a backpack lying by his feet.
Jason grits his teeth. Has he been sitting on that comeback since Jason left the apartment? Is the most powerful person in the universe a goddamn loser?
“Man, it feels good to get that off my chest.”
Prime sinks back into the couch, satisfied, and nudges his bag aside to spread his legs. Like one of those assholes on the subway. Jason’s of the belief that you should only manspread in your own home or a criminal’s lair. Everywhere else you just look like a rude piece of shit.
He takes a deep breath and closes the door behind him, stepping over to the kitchen to plug the kettle in. He opens the tin of leaves and takes a second to enjoy the calming scent. Breathe. Ignore. Think of a beach on the Bahamas.
“You drink tea?” Prime asks, and he sounds so genuinely confused that it catches Jason off guard.
He squints at the guy as the water starts boiling. “What’s it to you?”
Prime frowns at himself. “That’s not…” Jason looks on, intrigued despite himself. “I guess it’s implied, with Alfred and all…”
He stiffens at the casual name-drop. Something about the tone is strange. It’s not meant as a threat, judging by the oblivious look on Prime’s face, but it still comes off as unsettling. If Bruce didn’t give him the lowdown about Superboy-Prime and his… multiversal knowledge or whatever, he’d be calling in the cavalry by now.
Prime chatters on like nothing happened. “Listen. I know I got carried away and I’m sorry about that. I just have… a problem I’d like some help with. But if you tell me to go, I'll go, promise.”
Jason blinks. This is definitely not the raging manchild he’s heard so much about. That type of person doesn't apologize or back down. Weird. Jason usually doesn’t buy into rumors, but in this case they weren’t rumors. Superboy-Prime punched reality apart in a childish tantrum and killed a lot of heroes. That’s just a fact. So this strange shift in attitude comes as a surprise.
Prime continues, “I just want to know… How do you cope with it?”
Sure, whatever. He’ll entertain this for now. “Cope with what?”
Prime looks over his shoulder, squinting at something only he can see. “All the suspicion. It’s like everyone’s waiting for me to mess up, even though I’m clearly trying here.”
Jason grits his teeth. That landed a little too close to home.
“Trying doesn’t make your past disappear.” That came out a lot more defensive than intended, and it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.
Prime scrunches his nose. “I know that. Obviously,” he snaps back. Then sighs. “Sorry.”
“I don’t know.”
Prime opens his mouth. A clean, round ‘o’. “What?”
“I don’t know how you cope.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? You’re supposed to say something inspiring here.”
Jason snorts and the kettle whistles a moment after. It’s much easier to turn his back this time, and he grabs a plain white mug from the cupboard. He hesitates there, hovering over a second one.
“Do I look like an inspiring kind of guy?”
“I mean… Depends on how you look at it.”
He grudgingly takes out a second mug and two strainers. He didn’t buy the spare for guests, but it looks like it’ll come in handy.
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Superboy-”
“It’s, uh, CK. Call me CK.”
Jason turns back to face him. The guy’s still sitting on the couch looking as earnest as ever.
“Okay,” he says slowly. “CK. I don’t know what you want me to say. If you came here looking for a ten step guide to forgiveness, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
He snorts. “Yeah, I know that.”
Jason glares. What the hell is that supposed to mean?
“But if you’re still looking for that inspiring speech, I suggest you go find Superman.” He makes his eyes go wide. “Oh, wait.”
Prime goes tense, his jaw locks and a dark look crosses his eyes. It’s the exact kind of venom Jason sees on Gotham rogues. Like they’re looking through you, already planning the most satisfying way to watch you die. He can’t help it when his heart starts racing, because that look on what amounts to a god makes him regret ever opening his mouth. He curses internally. They’ve been talking so casually that he forgot just who he’s dealing with. Stupid mistake.
Prime goes blank. His eyes flick between Jason’s face and chest, and his expression morphs into something half annoyed, half guilty. Contradictions seem to be a theme with this guy.
It must be hard to wrestle with your temper when you know how easy it is to shut someone up. He can relate. Maybe not on the cosmic scale, but that’s beside the point.
“Forget it.” Jason dumps the tea leaves in the trash and the strainers into the sink. He crosses the room to sit down next to CK and knock his goddamn legs together. It works, which honestly irritates him even more, because in reality Jason would have an easier time moving a mountain than a hair on his head. How does a control freak like Damian spend so much time with Jon? It boggles the mind.
He places a mug on the coffee table and takes a swig of the other one. Alfred would kill him for that, too. Tea needs to be savored, you see.
CK blinks down at the mug like a foreign object. “…Thanks?” He picks it up and peers inside.
“Poison doesn’t even affect you, what are you looking at?”
“I’d smell it anyway,” he mutters idly. “Just. Uh. Thanks.” He takes a careful sip and pulls away immediately. “Eugh. Why’s it so bitter?”
“Because your tastebuds are shot to shit from junk food. Finish it.”
CK makes a face, but actually listens for once. This day just keeps getting weirder.
“Look. What helped me was getting away from Gotham for a while. Not forever, ‘cause this is my city too, whether Batman likes it or not,” he huffs. “But I met a few people who gave me a chance. Had some time to breathe. And when I felt a little more… stable, I came back to try again.”
CK squints at the opposite wall, nodding smartly. Dumbass.
“But that won’t work for you. The League’s gonna follow you wherever you go. You’ll always feel miserable.”
“Okay. When does this get useful?”
Jason leans in and pushes CK’s mug upwards. He just rolls his eyes, sipping on his tea like a baby.
“So, you have to figure it out yourself. Your situation is one of a kind. No one can tell you how to magically fix everything.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’ll have to work for it.”
Jason sighs. “You want actual advice? Here’s mine. There are some things you just won’t be able to fix. And in your case? There’s a lot of it. You’ll have to make peace with that.”
CK lowers the mug into his lap and Jason watches his hands tighten around it. His knuckles go white, but the ceramic doesn’t crack.
“It would help to talk to all those friends you have. To keep you sane through all of this.”
CK winces. Yeah. Thought so.
“And that ‘love interest’ would help, too."
He winces harder. “That’s… a work in progress.”
“Then start progressing.” Jason picks up the remote and turns on the TV. Which channel had the reruns of The Great British Bake Off… “And get the hell out of my apartment.”
That is unfortunately not the end of it. The next time CK finds him, it’s in costume. One minute Jason’s paying attention to the road, making some illegal turns and passes, then he nearly has a heart attack.
“Jesus!” The bike wobbles but he stabilizes easily.
Great. Amazing. It’s pitch black and the roads are still wet from last night’s rain, the last thing he needs is a superpowered pest flying by his side.
“--- -----.” CK grins.
“You know I can’t hear you, right?" He’s never been so thankful for wind and noise-canceling. Usually it gets in the way of his work.
CK frowns and crosses his arms, flipping onto his back while still keeping up with the bike. Show-off. He starts boxing the air, then points to Jason, then puts his hands up in a confused gesture.
“What? Are you asking me if I’m on patrol?”
He nods his head with a grin.
“I’m getting breakfast.” Very early breakfast. At around two in the morning, last he checked.
CK blinks. Then huffs, boxing the air in a slower, sadder way. Jason rolls his eyes.
“If you don’t like it, buzz off.”
CK lazily drifts up to avoid a car, his cape whipping in the wind, and Jason makes a few dangerous passes just to see if he can keep up. He can, and looks very smug about it.
“How are you even doing that?”
He taps his ears with a grin and points to the road behind him. He can tell where everything is through hearing alone? God, Supers are so annoying. No wonder Bruce carries Kryptonite everywhere. It’s a shame it doesn’t work on this guy.
CK waves his hand in front of his face and Jason bats it out of the air. The asshole knocks his fists together, then points to the both of them, back and forth.
No. Surely not. “You want to team up?”
CK nods so fast his features blur for a second. Absolutely not.
“Out of my way.” And Jason takes a sharp turn, forcing CK to hurtle away before he becomes complicit in a massive car crash.
He slows down next to a Bat Burger and gets off to roll his bike out of the way, partially into the alley. He pulls the kickstand down and takes his helmet off, messing with his flattened fringe. Always annoying.
“Nice ride,” CK says. He strolls over, bending down to look at the bike, and Jason fights the urge to throttle him. It hurts his heart to smash any bike, but he’s been tinkering with this one for a while. It’s his baby.
He checks his domino mask out of habit. Secure and in place. “What do you want?”
“Told you, we should team up. It'd be awesome. We’d sell so many issues!”
What? Jason stifles the urge to punch him in his stupid symmetrical face. He’d only shatter his own fist.
“I’m good, thanks.” He opens the trunk and stashes the helmet inside.
“Aw. Just a cameo?”
“Seriously, what’s your obsession with the helmet?”
“It’s not an obsession,” CK says as he follows Jason into the Bat Burger. For the record, he downright begged Bruce to sue them for that name, but apparently there’s nothing they can do about it. “But look at him! He’d look stupid without it!”
A small plushie gets shoved into his face and Jason grabs CK’s wrist to pull it away. Oh, it’s one of those round, cutesy Red Hoods. He got a huge one as a gag gift for his birthday last year. It's been taking up way too much space in his second-favorite safehouse.
He sighs. “Why do you have this?”
“It’s cute!” CK looks around for seemingly the first time and his eyes light up like a kid in a candy store. “Wait, is this a Bat Burger? I’ve always wanted to try some.”
They make their way to the counter and Jason waves at the group of teenage employees leaning against the register. They all look exhausted and in various stages of ignoring the uniform policy.
“Yo, Hood.” Lara blinks. “And… Superman?” She sounds a little breathless.
“At your service!” CK grins wide. He elbows Jason, way too chipper for this hour in the morning. “This one’s on me.”
Jason watches him order an obscene amount of food and gets himself a value meal. The teens break off, half of them heading to the kitchen, while CK chatters with the two cashiers. Why is he tolerating this again? Jason rubs his eyes, digging his fingers into the socket and enjoying the pressure.
“You okay, Hood?” Andre leans over. It rattles the beads in his hair.
“Yeah. Fine. Just the usual.”
“Anything cool? Didn’t the Croc bust out?”
“Batgirl has it handled.”
“Damn. Boring.” The kid clicks his tongue and yawns in quick succession. “I wanna jump into traffic, man.”
“You and me both.” He raps his knuckles on the cheap wood. “Stay out of trouble.” And makes his way to a booth tucked against the far wall.
Meanwhile CK has somehow steered the conversation into comic book territory. How that happened is beyond him. But the real mystery is why Lara looks even more smitten than before.
He slumps into the booth, dreaming of the shower he’s going to take when he gets home. He wants to finish his patrol first, but it’ll be incredible. The water pressure at his new apartment is just the right amount of painful, and the boiler doesn’t shut off every other hour.
He jumps when CK drops into the seat across from him. “I got us extra fries!” He sits the tiny Red Hood against the wall.
Jason narrows his eyes. “She’s a little young for you.”
CK blinks, perturbed. “What?”
He stares but the guy seems genuinely confused.
“Nevermind.” Not his problem. “You’re in a good mood.”
“Oh, yeah! Had a good day at work. Helped a ton of customers, argued about Ultimate Spider-Man, got a cat out of a tree on my lunch break.”
Jason snorts. “You know, they can usually get down on their own.”
CK braces against the table, leaning forward with a grin. “But with Superman around, they don’t have to.”
That’s… a little endearing. Jason is man enough to admit it.
“I’m actually gunning for employee of the month- Hold on, what do you do for work? You’ve had some jobs over the years, but it’s left kind of vague.”
Is it a bad sign that he’s getting used to this random stranger knowing intimate details of his life? Definitely. “This and that. Minimum wage. Odd jobs.”
He also takes every chance he can get to… divest some funds from local mobsters. Though he wouldn’t exactly call that a job. More like community service.
“Ever thought about becoming a priest?” CK grins wide.
“What.”
“I heard some people are into that.” He shoots the wall a smug, knowing look and Jason feels the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose.
Ugh. There’s no way he’s resorting to such a Bruce move, no matter how bad this headache gets.
CK furrows his brows. “Huh… That felt weird.”
“It usually feels weird to talk to a wall, yeah.”
“No, that’s-” He shakes himself. “Anyway. What was I talking about?”
“You were actually about to shut up and leave.”
“No, no. Something else…”
Lara finally arrives with their mountain of food. Well, a mountain and a normal-sized meal. Jason nods his thanks and CK distractedly does the same. He’s too busy sitting in an exaggerated thinking pose, hand on his chin. Lara wilts a little and Jason sends her a sympathetic look. If she was a few years older he would happily foist him off on her. She sighs and rushes back to her friends.
CK smacks his fist on his palm. “Right! It’s pretty tough to get to work on time and I’m kinda running out of excuses to leave when someone needs saving. I’ve never really had to juggle superhero stuff and…” He looks around and lowers his voice, “a secret identity.”
Jason digs into his fries. The two of them are the only customers here, whispering just makes them look shady as hell.
“But I think I can do it! Employee of the month will be mine.”
“Uhuh.”
He dips his fries into his shake and watches CK tear into his food. He’s like a starving bear that wandered onto a campsite. Nothing but tattered paper left in his wake.
“Ooh, you dip your fries, too?”
“Family tradition.”
It is, in a way. Dick’s on a lifelong campaign to indoctrinate everyone around him. The only ones left to hold the line are Tim and Bruce, and they make sure everyone knows it. Disgusting this, heathens that. Blah blah blah. Alfred takes no part in the debate and judges all of them for eating fast food in the first place.
“Gotcha.” CK pulls out a plastic baggie from his mountain of wrappers. He rips it open to reveal a Robin toy. Jason groans.
“Nice. How many of these are there? Maybe I should collect them.” He grabs a little folded paper and smooths it out on the table. “Glow-in-the-dark Nightwing? Awesome.”
It’s like he’s babysitting a toddler.
CK waves the paper around with a shit-eating grin. “Special edition Rainbow Pride Red Hood!”
He hums. He’s not the one with the actual rainbow costume, and that sounds like a lot of work for something so impractical, but maybe a jacket would be cool for Pride next year.
“One hundred percent collecting these.”
Jason eats his food, listening to CK ramble about anything and everything. It’s strangely soothing for his tired mind. He feels like he can relax. Someone has the conversation handled, someone who’d hear any danger coming from a mile away.
Fine. He’s too tired to fight it. Once CK finishes his riveting tale about harassing two birds that were chasing each other, Jason smacks a few bills on the table.
“All right. Get me as many burgers as you can. To go. We’re doing your good deed for the day.”
He scoffs. “I stopped three muggings on the way here.”
Jason slides the money forward. “Go. I gotta take a leak.”
CK rolls his eyes, but reluctantly gets up, does a quick heel-turn to grab the Red Hood plushie, and marches to the counter. Lara visibly perks up. Jason huffs a laugh and heads off to do his business.
After he washes his hands he stops to stare into the mirror for a few minutes, letting his mind go blank. He just needs a minute. Just a minute of nothing but ambient noise.
When he leaves, CK's already grabbing their bags of food. He grins when he sees Jason and a small part of him goes warm and gooey at that. Disgusting. But… Not a lot of people are happy to see him.
He jerks his head at the door and they leave with a quick goodbye.
Except not a single day in Gotham can end peacefully. There’s a rough-looking guy lurking around his bike, eying it in a way that makes Jason feel extremely territorial. The paint-job better be intact or there will be hell to pay. He hears the bags crinkle in CK’s grip and he puts an arm out, tapping the back of his hand on that ‘S’ shield. CK backs down, thankfully.
“You know that symbol, man.” In bold red on the bike’s side. “I know you do.”
Tom scratches his beard and steps back. “Hood-”
He grabs a burger and throws it underhand. His bike looks fine, thankfully. “Get lost.”
“Ey, don’t be stingy.”
He sighs and turns to CK to dig out another burger. He’s glaring at the man, sizing him up. Jason shoots him a warning look.
This throw is a little more aggressive, but Tom catches it with only minor fumbling. “Thanks, dipshit.”
And he leaves, just like that. Jason groans, running a hand through his hair. “That guy’s such a pain in the ass.”
CK blinks. He’s chewing on some fries. That… Whatever. “You know him?”
“Nah. But I never forget a profile.”
“Profile?” He lets Jason take a few bags before they’re all demolished. Do Kryptonians have a black hole for a stomach?
“Name’s Tom. Mid thirties, got into debt after an accident,” he rattles off, “divorced, lost custody, works at the gas station a few blocks that way,” he points to the west, “lives in his car, picked up an addiction last year. I managed to get him into rehab and Wayne financial aid a while ago.”
“Oh.”
“What?”
CK smiles and looks in the direction that Tom scurried off to. His eyes gloss over with X-ray vision. “You really have this ‘bad boy with a heart of gold’ thing going on. I mean, obviously I knew that, but it’s totally different in person.”
Jason glares. “Shut up. Now make yourself useful and hand these out.”
CK laughs and it occurs to Jason that he’s never heard the sound. Strange, for someone who smiles all the time. He tilts his head as a few puzzle pieces rearrange in his head.
“Let’s go that way! Mr. Lost Custody is telling everyone Hood and Superman are giving out presents.”
Of course. Like he said, pain in the ass.
They manage to hand out every burger by sunrise, and CK chatters with every single person they come across. They mostly seem annoyed or bewildered, but a few of them appreciate the conversation. And that’s enough for Jason.
When he gets home he takes his goddamn shower.
CK looks around like this is the first time he’s barged into Jason’s home. It’s really getting annoying.
“Hey, are the writers on a time crunch or something? Why do we keep meeting here?”
Jason rolls his eyes and kicks his feet up on the table. His cast thunks and he bites back a wince. Feet injuries are the worst.
CK decides to take that as an invitation to sit down, which it was not. “Woah, what happened to you?”
His foot got impaled by a mutant plant. It somehow poked a hole straight through steel-toed boots. “Poison Ivy.”
“Finally.” Jason glares at him. “I mean, sorry that you got hurt, but finally. Some action! What’s the plan? Are we hunting her down? I got this, easy.” He concentrates and sweeps his eyes across the room, though he’s probably seeing the entire city right now.
“You’ll find her that way.” He points in the vague direction of Arkham Island. “I made a good distraction after this,” he gestures at his foot, “and we took her down.”
CK wilts like the plant Jason gleefully hacked to pieces. “I was too late?”
“Apparently.”
He groans and throws himself back into his seat. The couch creaks ominously. If this asshole breaks any of his furniture-
“So, what now? Anyone else escape Arkham? Imagine us beating up the Croc together!” He mimes what Jason thinks is supposed to be an exciting fight.
He shrugs and changes the channel the moment Nightwing appears on the news. “Everyone’s locked up and I’m on mandatory bedrest. Go catch some muggers if you want action so bad.”
Don’t get him wrong, Jason despises bedrest like any respectable vigilante, but he can accept his limitations. Sure, he’ll keep going with a bullet wound or two, but he’s not willing to fuck up his foot by exacerbating the injury. He needs that thing.
“Oh.” CK sinks down and spreads his legs so far that his knee presses against Jason’s thigh. What is it with his compulsion to take up as much space as humanly possible? Jason stifles the urge to punch him.
“Well… I can’t just leave.”
Jason squeezes his eyes shut. He can. He really can. Nothing is stopping him.
“What would Superman do?” CK asks himself, hand on his chin.
“Leave. Find someone who needs help who isn’t here.”
“You’re right,” CK snaps his fingers and Jason could shed a tear. Thank fuck. “Superman helps anyone in need. Even if that means he won’t be able to punch anything.”
No. “Wait-”
CK leans forward so fast that Jason flinches. He plants his hands on the coffee table and squints at the cast. Can’t a man watch TV in peace?
“Stop ionizing my foot, dammit!”
CK frowns up at him. “It’s a safe level of radiation-”
“Shut up, I know. I don’t care. There’s a cast on it, I got antibiotics and painkillers. There’s nothing else to be done. Actually, congrats. You checked up on me. You did it, you can leave now.”
CK squints at him. “But… You still need to eat and go to the bathroom, right? And run errands and feed the homeless. Whatever else you do.”
“I have crutches.”
CK slowly turns his head toward the front door. Jason winces. That’s where he left his crutches lying on the ground, because Dick was being a little shit and deserved to get something thrown at him. That's also why he’s been procrastinating going to the bathroom.
“I got it!” CK throws himself over the back of the couch and slides to a stop in front of the crutches. His cape whips around dramatically. He’s back in a blink, carefully leaning them on the armrest.
He smacks his hands together. “Mission one, complete.”
Jason lets out a bone-deep sigh. “I do need to use the bathroom.”
He yelps as CK grabs him, easy as a sack of feathers, and deposits him on the toilet. He braces himself against the wall. “Slow down. Jesus.”
CK grins.
“...Are you gonna leave, or?”
He startles, a quick flush on his cheeks, and dashes out of the bathroom. “Sorry!”
The door rattles as it slams shut.
Jason grunts and resigns himself to this mess. He does his business the best he can and struggles along the wall for the few steps it takes to get to the sink. He washes his hands and splashes some water on his face. This might as well happen. Because Jason’s life is one cosmic joke and they sent an actual cosmic entity as the punchline. He bangs his head against the mirror.
“You okay? What are you doing in there?”
“Nothing that you need to know about.” He pushes himself upright. “A little help?”
The door opens more delicately this time and CK approaches with his arms held out. Jason quickly holds up a finger. The middle one. “Don’t carry me.”
He grins but drops his arms. “That’s so Batman of you.”
“I’ll kill you.”
“You can try,” he chirps and ducks under Jason’s arm to help him back to the couch.
“You know,” CK says as he hovers, contemplative. “I’ve never really taken care of anyone. Not since…” His eyes go distant.
Right. This guy has a whole host of issues. Something about an erased world and a pocket universe… Didn’t the Lanterns throw him in super-jail a while back? Seems like his life has been an even bigger whirlwind than Jason’s League of Assassins mess.
“This is perfect practice!”
Great. He’s a guinea pig now. “Do I get a say in this?”
CK frowns. “Of course you do.” He looks away, a surprisingly vulnerable expression on his face. “I told you before, didn’t I? Tell me to go, without the jokes, and I’ll go.”
Jason watches him carefully and CK stares back. That Kryptonian complexion is almost eerily smooth, like a marble statue. Vibrant blue eyes that seem to glow slightly. Symmetrical face and figure. Every bit of the god his obscenely strong powers suggest.
He really wants to be Superman, doesn’t he? Taking those powers and folding them away, bending to humans who should be nothing more than ants to him.
Jason looks up at the ceiling, praying for patience. He needs to let this happen, doesn’t he? Justice means prevention, not just punishment. CK is clearly just lonely and craves attention, trying to make up for what he’s done while everyone and everything works against him. If Damian gave him a chance, which he did, Jason checked, then it would be downright embarrassing for Red Hood to refuse.
“Sure. If you wanna play nursemaid, that’s none of my business.” It is, since he’s the one in the middle of it, but denying that makes him feel better about this very vulnerable, very stupid situation.
CK seems to take offense to that. “I’m not a maid, I’m an- an assistant! A good samaritan helping the community!”
“Okay, good samaritan,” he drawls. “Get me some groceries. I ran out of basically everything yesterday.”
CK groans but starts digging through his pockets. Since when does that suit have pockets? He pulls his wallet out and starts thumbing through it.
“You carry your wallet around like that? It’s like you’re begging to blow your cover.”
“Oh, it’s cool. I don’t have any IDs. I don’t think I even legally exist.” He makes a frustrated sound, digging through what looks like a million pieces of paper. Are those… phone numbers? Jesus Christ.
“Then how are you employed? How do you pay taxes?”
“Uh.”
“That’s definitely illegal.” Which is extremely hypocritical, since Jason is legally dead himself. But it’s funny to rile him up.
CK shoots him a glare and produces ten whole dollars. “I’m working on it.”
“What are you- Are you trying to pay for my groceries? I’ve got a stash under my bed, just go get it.”
“Oh, good,” he sighs. “I’m so broke right now.”
Jason rolls his eyes and watches him walk away. “And keep your hands to yourself!”
“I know, I know. Privacy and stuff.”
This is going to be a long day. Jason grabs the remote to find something bearable and tilts his head at an NCIS rerun. It’s a shame they’re doing a marathon with Dick. It’s the perfect piece of mindless television, where you can turn your brain off, start drooling, then suddenly you’re waking up late for an appointment. He clicks away and sighs. Maybe he should get streaming. Even if he regrets the money spent, at least Steph would stop calling him a fossil.
“Holy shit. Is this drug money?” CK rushes out and waves the roll of cash around like an uptight teacher. There’s a few hundreds in there. “I thought you were done with the crimelord shtick!”
How does he know that? Jason isn’t exactly famous outside of Gotham. Most of the League doesn’t even know who he is. It’s not like Kryptonians are omniscient, different universe or not. …Hopefully. Bruce never elaborated on how Prime got all of his knowledge.
He grits his teeth. “It’s from the Penguin, chill out.”
“That’s a crime!”
Wow.
“You’re the one evading taxes and breaking into my apartment!”
“Woah, okay, let’s clear up that misconception. I’m Superman, I don’t break and enter. You left your window open.” He throws himself down on the couch and the springs creak in agony.
“And you just happened to be there?”
CK frowns, shifting in his seat. “Well, I- That’s a coincidence.”
“No, it’s not. I keep it unlocked.” Jason casually points a finger at him. “Still a crime.”
CK’s face drops into something dark and enraged, and Jason stiffens. Though… none of it is aimed at him. He’s staring at the window with a nasty frown, almost like he’s frustrated with himself. Huh. While Jason’s starting to believe that CK actually wants to turn over a new leaf, this fervor catches him off guard.
“It’s…” Fuck it. Whatever. Giving second chances, taking in strays. Why does the world conspire to make him look like Batman? “It’s not a crime if you’re invited. Just weird.”
CK sucks in a sharp breath. Jason looks over warily. He’s grinning like a maniac.
“Don’t make it a thing.”
“Oh, it’s a thing. We’re a thing.” He gestures between them rapidly. Jason snatches the cash out of his hand. “It’s crossover time.”
“If you break my window you’re paying for it.”
“What?! But I’m broke! We just established that!”
Jason finally settles on watching Pawn Stars and tosses the remote to the side. He picks out a few twenties from the wad of cash and places it on the table. “Is that what Superman would do?”
“Hey, that’s not fair!” He snatches up the money and goes through a wide range of emotions. “…Fine.”
Too easy.
“Huh. Here again.”
“Good morning to you, too,” Jason mutters at the coffee table. He has a ton of papers spread out everywhere and the mess is becoming dire. They’re schematics for a new helmet.
This bout of nostalgia was not influenced by anyone’s opinions, for the record. He kind of missed the helmet too, the built-in comms and the high tech everything. It made his life easier and harder in a lot of aspects, but it doesn’t hurt to have one on standby even if he won’t use it as much.
“Is that casework?” CK leans in and Jason gathers his papers like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar.
“No. Personal space.”
CK rolls his eyes but leans back. “Ugh. Where are you hiding your bad guys? Is this even going into the issue? It’s hard to tell sometimes.”
“What are you talking about?” He picks up a stack of paper and taps the edges on the table.
“I appreciate the character journey, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a superhero comic. Where’s the fighting? The villains? Any conflict?” He mutters to himself, confused, “Something should’ve happened by now.”
Jason sighs and sets his papers aside. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Haven’t you saved a ton of people the last few weeks?”
“Yeah, but that’s small-time off-screen stuff,” he waves. “Where’s the villain?”
Jason stares at him. His eye twitches.
“Do you want lives to be in danger?”
“…No, but. Okay. Any other conflict? How’s Batman?”
Here we go. “The usual.”
“The rest of the family?”
“Fine.”
“Uh… How’s the… How are you feeling about Alfred?”
Jason furrows his brows. What’s with that phrasing? “Fine, I guess?”
“What? Seriously? Nothing?” CK slumps down into the couch, rubbing at his jaw. “The Titans? Outlaws? Dana?”
He grits his teeth. He’s just going to ignore the question of how he knows about Dana. “Haven’t talked to them in a while. Remind me why you’re interrogating me?”
CK grimaces. He’s riling himself up and Jason braces for something, though he has no idea what. “Do you have anything going on? I thought you were done with the emo angst.”
Jason freezes.
Emo angst. Dying after being tortured. Getting revived to be hated by his family. Roadblock after roadblock. Just wanting some peace. Emo angst.
“Wait. I didn’t-”
“Well I’m entertaining an asshole right now,” he snaps. “Babysitting is a full time job.”
Jason darts up with his papers and turns. A hand grabs his wrist, hard as steel.
“No! Look, I’m sorry-”
God, what a dick. He keeps forgetting who exactly he’s dealing with. “Let go of me.”
“Jason-” It occurs to him that Prime has never used his name before. He doesn’t know what that means. It runs a shiver down his spine.
“Let. Go.”
The grip tightens.
His heart picks up pace and Prime finally lets go, stricken. Wide blue eyes, innocent as a lamb. Jason glares, letting out a shaky breath.
“I’ve been trying to ignore it, because I’m giving you a chance, but don’t you realize how fucked up that is? When you bring up private shit out of nowhere! And so casually. Like you’re taunting me with it.”
He goes pale. “That’s not-”
“Yeah, I know. You just want to be a hero. Superman saving the day! That’s the worst part!”
Prime purses his lips and a hint of frustration pulls at his eyes. “That doesn’t even make sense!”
“Because you’re oblivious! Completely blind to how uncomfortable you make people! Specifically the people who know what you’ve done!”
Jason’s not quite cruel enough to start listing every one of his crimes, but goddamn is the thought tempting.
“That… I…” Prime trails off and his face falls. His eyes flit around, unseeing. He’s probably replaying every interaction he’s had since taking up the mantle of Superman.
With no one’s input, by the way. He just appeared and started parading around as Superman, expecting everyone to go along with it. People backed off because Lois asked them to, but Jason knows what most of the League thinks about Superboy-Prime.
And Tim’s silence says enough.
Prime digs the heel of his palm into his eyes. “This is the…” He peeks out from under his hand and frowns. Then he collapses onto the couch, propping his elbows on his knees. “Sorry. You’re right.”
Jason pinches the bridge of his nose. The fucking Bruce move. Dammit. He sits back down as well, throwing his papers on the table.
“I’m sorry, I just… I keep forgetting…” He glances at Jason. “I can explain, I swear. It’s just a lot to take in for you guys. For this universe.” Jason rolls his eyes but Prime turns solemn. “No, I’m serious. I’m already dangerous and alien, even for an actual alien.” He huffs a dull laugh. “I didn’t want to risk people hating me even more.”
Jason runs a hand through his hair. “A lot to take in how?”
He winces. “Existential. Slightly life-altering. …A lot life-altering.”
“Okay.”
“But life in this universe still has value!” He blurts out. Wow. That bad? “It's important. All of you are. You inspire millions of people. On my Earth all of this is- Ugh. Where do I even start? The Source? Earth 2? Or the comic book thing? It’s not that bad! Some Earths have it worse!”
“Oh, joy.”
Prime looks him in the eyes, pleading. “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You’re the first person here who tolerates me and… That sounds pathetic.”
Maybe a bit. Jason keeps his mouth shut, because it’s not like he has many prospects either. The anger quickly seeps out of him, which pisses him off all over again, but he puts a lid on it.
“I don’t want to mess this up. I… I can tell you if you really want to know.” CK lowers his voice. “But I’m serious when I say it’s a lot. And a bit complicated.”
“Okay. I believe you.”
He jerks his head up. “Really?”
“Really.” Against his better judgement. “Uh. I’m sorry. For bringing up your,” he gestures vaguely, “past.”
“It’s cool. I deserved it.”
Jason groans. “No, you didn’t. And I don’t just tolerate you. Like I said… You’re invited.”
“…Thank you.” He smiles, but it falls pretty fast. “Okay, so. This’ll take a while. There’s this celestial lady called Perpetua-”
“Stop.” CK snaps his mouth shut, eyes wide. “I don’t want to know.” As much as this mystery will itch under his skin. “You’re clearly bad at explaining it.”
“Hey!”
“I mean, I do want to know. Just not right now. Later.”
CK opens his mouth, then closes it. He nods. “Okay. Later.”
“Good.” That’s enough emotions for today. He picks up his schematics.
“Just one more thing.”
“And you ruined it.”
“Look- One thing, I swear.” There’s a helpless, sad smile on his face. “Just one. Some things aren’t adding up and I need your help to figure it out. Then I’ll shut up about it, honest.”
“Fine.”
“Yes!” He pumps his fist. “I mean.” A serious nod. “Yes.”
He’s already regretting this.
“Stop me if you need to. Seriously, at any time.” He takes a deep breath. “When I asked about Alfred…”
“I told you, he’s fine. Unless you know something I don’t.” He narrows his eyes.
“What? Wait. Is this-? No.” There’s a frantic look in his eyes. “Does ‘no metas in Gotham’ mean anything to you?”
Jason blinks. He feels like he’s getting yanked through ten different conversations. “That hasn’t been a rule for two decades.”
CK collapses onto the table, head in his hands. “No. No way. No, no, no. That’s a headcanon. It’s from an Elseworld and it wasn’t even Batman who said it! That was never a rule! It doesn’t even make sense!” He despairs. And it really does look like his world is falling apart.
“Okay,” Jason says. “I’m not sure what’s happening, but can you stop crushing my furniture?”
CK pops upright and stares at the cracked indents left by his elbows. His face flushes red. “I don’t- I wouldn’t lose control like that! None of this is right!”
He slouches and stares at the table, betrayed. “I did this to myself. Of course I can’t have this. You keep getting screwed by the writers and we’ve never interacted, even though I’m the reason you-” He snaps his mouth shut, a strange look on his face.
Jason frowns. He’s not sure how to parse that sentence, but he feels something in his chest give way. This whirlwind of a conversation has left him exhausted, but strangely content. He peeled back a layer of Superboy-Prime, of CK, and he… doesn’t mind what he found.
“Well… We’re ‘interacting’ right now, aren’t we?”
CK looks up at him, blinking out of his haze. He opens his mouth and closes it, then looks around the apartment. For a second he almost looks his age, confused and a touch uncertain. No superpowers or infamy, just a twenty-something guy trying to get through life like everyone else.
“Yeah. I guess we are.” His cheeks lift in a subdued smile.
This awkward, shy happiness looks good on him. Jason feels himself smile back. Despite it all.
He knocks frantically on Lois’ stupid large Superman window, taking care not to smash the glass. He needs her laptop yesterday.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Lois stumbles into the living room in her pajamas, squinting at the morning light. Clark sighs. Finally.
He rushes inside the moment she opens the window, whipping around the room. Where is that thing? Doesn’t she need it for work?!
“CK? What’s wrong? What happened?”
She actually sounds worried and he perks up, whirling around to face her. “Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.” His smile falls. “Actually, I’m not fine. I mean it’s nothing world ending, but it’s so not fine.”
Lois blinks blearily. She seems to have calmed down, at least, which is all he needed. He dashes to her room to raid the place but quickly remembers himself.
He shouts back at Lois, frozen in front of her open door. “Can I check your room? It’s really important.”
She rushes in looking a little frazzled, one hand braced on the wall. “What are you doing?!”
He smacks his hands together in prayer. “I need your laptop. Really bad. I swear I’ll return it in one piece.”
Lois stares. Then sighs. “Why do you need my laptop?”
“I, uh… Research.”
“Research.”
“Yup.” He clears his throat. “So… Can I?”
She taps her nails on the wall. Clark smiles innocently. Her head drops. “Fine.”
“Yes!”
She brushes past him and holds up a finger, telling him to stay put. Clark grins and thinks she was made to be a cool-but-stern mom. He’s so relieved they got the marriage and kid back, unlike certain other mainline comics.
Lois returns with her laptop and Clark’s already reaching out with greedy fingers. She pulls it out of reach. “I’m trusting you with this, okay? It’s expensive and I need it for work.”
He does a quick salute. “Yes, ma’am.” And grabs the laptop, wrapping it in his cape before he darts away.
He slows to a stop, tense, and turns back. The sun shines bright into the apartment. Lois is blinking at him by the door.
“Lois, I…”
He thinks of all their conversations where he referenced things he knew flew over her head, where he casually mentioned details of her life that he shouldn’t know about. Those moments weren’t an accident, at least most of them weren’t. That’s one thing Jason was wrong about. He does it all on purpose and he likes it. It’s a rush of power and control. Intoxicating, almost. He feels the bile rise in his throat.
“I’m sorry if I ever made you uncomfortable. I know I can be… difficult. And it’s complicated with Clark and you don’t really like me- But I’ll be better, I promise.”
She stares at him, eyes wide, and Clark winces at just how shocked she looks at an apology. It’s not like he doesn’t apologize! He just… Ugh.
A small smile lifts her lips. “Apology accepted. And for the record, I do like you… Clark.” He sucks in a sharp breath. “You’re a good kid. You’ve really changed, and I see that. Others will see it too.”
He feels his face heat up and whips around. Two people saying they like him in a single day. That’s- He spares Lois’ windows and only breaks the sound barrier when he’s well above the skyline.
It barely takes a second to reach the clouds and drift above them. He shakes himself dry and basks in the sunlight. The suit already feeds him enough, but there’s something about tanning under a real sun that just feels different. It calms his racing heart.
He lets out a deep breath and glances around. No one with enhanced sight or hearing for miles. Even the Watchtower isn’t bombarding him with radio waves.
“Okay,” he mumbles. “Research.”
Clark lies on his back thousands of feet above Metropolis, staring at the sky in terror. The laptop teeters dangerously on his thighs.
“Is this slash fiction?!” He groans. “But I just got a new love interest!”
He curls up into a ball, pulling at his hair. “Am I gay?! Have I always been gay?!”
But Laurie… He has moved on from her, he swears, but his throat still goes tight at the memories.
“No. Girls are hot.” His mind wanders to better places. “So hot.” He shakes himself and scrambles when the laptop starts slipping off his lap.
No. It’s okay. It doesn’t have to be slash fiction. It can be a cool crossover that would never happen otherwise. The people clamor for the Prime and Hood friendship! Slice of life! Character development! Nothing but pure fun! He can totally get behind that.
Jason’s snarly smile flashes in front of his eyes, a sliver of canines showing. That’s so cliché.
“Come on, there’s already a bi Superboy. We don’t need another one, fanfiction or not! Is the political climate really that bad?”
Oh man. It’s probably that bad. He’s a bit glad that he’s not returning home anytime soon.
“I’m already dealing with enough,” he begs the sky, and instinctively turns to the side. Oh, that’s why that felt weird. There’s nothing to actually look at. “I don’t need a gay crisis on top of it!”
He runs a hand down his face and pointedly ignores the steady, familiar thumping in his ears. That’s completely normal. Superman knows Batman’s heartbeat, it’s not weird if he knows his Bat’s heartbeat.
His Bat?
“They should just get Tim and Kon together,” he mumbles, glaring at the clouds through his fingers. "Maybe then people wouldn’t resort to this.”
Huh… If he plays matchmaker, would Kon still tear him apart when he makes an appearance? Tear apart emotionally, that is. Physically Superboy-Prime reigns supreme. Top tier, top ten, hallowed be my name.
“Okay. Fine. I’ll play by your rules.” He wraps the laptop in his cape. “But I’m going down kicking and screaming, mark my words.”
He tracks that heartbeat to the dingiest part of Gotham and matches it to even breaths, to the sound of rustling fabric and boots on the pavement. He guiltily looks away.
“Right. Yeah. Totally.” And dashes into the clouds.