hey ma look, i made it!

“I can’t feel my tongue, but I know it’s there because I’m talking.”  // @sonofsuper​

It took a moment of Oliver just staring dumbfounded at the younger man. Given what he knew he wouldn’t have thought it possible. Was it possible? Not that he knew much about the big blue boy scout’s physiology and all that, but he was pretty sure the Superfam could drink all of them under the table like it was water. But this? This was interesting.

“College parties?” he asked, the typical shit-eating grin making its way onto his face. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to let your cup out of your sight and to get your own drinks?” Of course, there was the possibility he’d done it knowingly. Oliver knew all about that as well and kind of wished he could erase most of his early twenties. Still, the idea was concerning given who it was. “If you start slurring, we’re phoning a friend with more biology knowledge.”

&

“Kinda skipped that whole part,” he said. He wasn’t slurring. That was good. But there was some sort of delay happening between his brain and his mouth.

He was twenty-one, but his ID said he'd been born in 2005--and even that was just a probationary under-eighteen drivers license. A fun problem that, fortunately, Damian’s wealth and power and probable network of black market spies had been able to fix, because the DMV wasn’t about to accept “I got trapped in a space volcano prison over summer break” as good reason for an upgrade. Now that he could legally get his own drinks, it was only a matter of time until Jon ended up tasked with keeping the Fortress’s minifridge stocked with beers. For now, he was starting with checking out a bar.

He hadn’t been to any college parties yet--he wanted to, it was in the plans, once he found the time and courage to ask the whole team to come along. For now, it was one more thing on the long, long list of Normal Human Kid (Man?) Experiences he hadn’t had. Still, Jon wasn’t an idiot about it all; his mom had taught him all the basics, and wouldn’t let him leave for school until he’d memorized them. He just hadn’t thought he could get drunk. Not this easily. Was it because he was half-human? Was super alcohol tolerance not included in his Kryptonian power set? Was--was the floor swaying?

He’d been a college student for approximately one full week, and he was already overwhelmed. This was what he’d decided to do, what he’d wanted to do (though how much of that was wanting to please his parents because he thought it’s what they’d want him to do, Jon wasn’t sure). And it was exhausting. Apparently missing the back half of high school to outer space meant he needed to do a lot of catch-up work, and school only got harder as you got older, especially if you’d never been particularly good at it to begin with.

Jon had also--and this was silly, and he knew it--fallen out of practice with wearing his civilian disguise, and readjusting to the thick-framed glasses was taking longer than he was proud to admit. (And he couldn’t stop picturing Damian laughing at him--super-farm-boy versus some fake glasses and a textbook, a showdown for the ages.)

But he’d get through this. He would get through this. He’d survived an intergalactic volcano prison; what were a few distribution requirements? There was a girl in his class--Cassie, he was pretty sure was her name. Casey? Kelly? Something like that. She seemed nice and smart and like maybe she could help him out if he played his cards right. But, apparently, Jon wasn’t very good at subtle, and she was catching on to the master plan. Dammit.

He shrugged and offered a who, me? smile. “Maybe it’s not goading, maybe it’s-- helping out a friend in need? Doing a good deed? Please? I’ll buy you ice cream.”

(  ✉️ → dirty farm boy ): Because Batman and Batkid sounds ridiculous.  (  ✉️ → dirty farm boy ): Does it? (  ✉️ → dirty farm boy ): I’m not a kid. I’m older than you. Batteen? Batman 2.0. I agree with you - Robin is a little overused. Should have been retired after Todd anyway.

The continuous red flash of the small device on Damian’s desk mocked him, beeping softly with each repetition as the day went on. There was only one notification set to that particular tracker - one that Damian had set many years ago and had continued to influence throughout the years.

Jonathan Kent was back in orbit. 

Summer vacation had been an endless onslaught of training for Damian. While Bruce wasn’t fond of his son spending large amounts of time in the desert with his assassin-oriented mother, they did get to occasionally see one another, especially now that Damian was out of school (as if he ever really went) and able to make more decisions on his own. Their training consisted of swords and meditation and a lot of boring nonsense that Damian had wanted nothing more than to skip because it was just like being back home with Bruce and Dick, legs crossed on the floor of the cave, breathing and existing.

With his mind constantly going-going-going, summer break had been a good way to work out some of his energy. He saw Jon for the first few weeks, until he had announced his intention to go to space (without him), and subsequently would be leaving Damian behind for a week or two. While irked, that was fine. Jon was his own person. They didn’t spend every moment together, after all. They weren’t attached at the hip like they had been when they were just pre-teens. They weren’t dependent on one another in a stupidly unhealthy way that their father’s mocked, and Damian’s brothers teased him about. Not anymore. They were grown, independent teenagers.

And if Damian had to swallow thickly around the lump in his throat at the thought of Jonathan Kent not needing him anymore, then he would blame it on allergies or thirst. Anything to hide this nurtured dependency on his best friend.

Now, it seemed, his time was up. Damian was tanned and golden from the harsh desert suns near his mother’s base, and he couldn’t wait to rub it in Jon’s face at how he’d grown nearly half an inch just over the few weeks they’d been apart, Damian a solid 5′6″ now, and growing.

His descent to the Fortress of Attitude was a well-worn one, Damian finding the little pleasures in the ride. Jon must have been incredibly bored without Damian to preoccupy his time - ready to pull that ridiculous Kent-curl from his head with frustration at being unable to see the youngest Wayne. Although he’d never admit it, Damian was beginning to feel restless without Jon by his side too.

The door opened with his access code, the back entrance to the Fortress closer to the manor than the main. It was also a fantastic hiding place, if he did say so himself. One that even Richard would be proud of, he thought.

When the main panel slid open to reveal their hideout, time seemed to stop. Or go forward. Or, or, or something. Damian’s head swam, gloved fingers reaching out to press to his forehead for a moment.

The man in front of him hadn’t spotted him yet, and really, Damian couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak, or breathe, or think. The frustration of it all bubbled like poison in his guts, tainting him from the inside out. 

And really, it was just that: the Jonathan Kent in front of him was no longer a boy, a year or two younger than him, taller than him by a few mere inches. In his wake, there was a man; broad shoulders, a striking jaw, and dark hair no longer curled around a round baby face. There was a pounding in the room, constant and heavy and it felt like bass at one of those ridiculous clubs Grayson attended, and – maybe that was just his heart echoing in his ears.

What could he say? How could he say it? What happened? What’s wrong with you? Where’s Jon? The ridiculous blink of the machinery in his hand continued its mocking pattern and Damian couldn’t help but throw it at his feet, smashing it into pieces between them. “Explain.”

Explain.

He wished explaining would make things better. He wished it could be easy. (It was, sort of: Jon had gotten combination kidnapped-slash-lost in space for a couple more years than expected, and, because of some weird physics shit that Damian would probably understand more than he did, his return to Earth wasn’t really proportional with the amount of time he’d spent off-planet. Elementary school stuff.)

He’d sent Damian a text before he’d gone up, hadn’t he? Hey D taking a family vacay to space 👊 🌎 ☄️ be back soon don’t beat valhalla without me. Something like that. Of course, that had been the last one, and it barely said anything at all. Over the past few years, Jon had had plenty of time to think about how quickly it had all happened, how he’d hurriedly packed a bag and rushed onward and upward, how he hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye, not really.

At the time, he probably figured he’d regale Damian with stories of his daring heroic adventures, how he’d become Han frickin’ Solo out there, how cool it had all been. It probably wouldn’t have hurt to put a little emphasis on the fact that, while Damian might be a genius and a ninja and better at MarioKart, Jon was part alien with the coolest powers this side of the Milky Way. You know, for his ego.

Of course, it hadn’t happened like that. Instead, he’d just vanished. And there were days when he’d thought that that was it, he was done, he was never getting home. He was vanished for good. His mom always taught him that--to go until you didn’t think you could go any more, then keep going. That nothing in the entire universe, no matter how big or scary or overwhelming, was as strong as the will of a Lane. (And if Jon argued that he was a Kent, too, she’d look at him with those eyes they shared, mirroring his own narrow-eyed stare back at him.)

Jon hadn’t even let himself think about giving up because he couldn’t leave them. He couldn’t just vanish--not for his family, and not for Damian.

So here he was now, standing where he should have stood three weeks or five years ago, however you wanted to look at it. Where he wished he’d been able to tell Damian in person that this was something he had to do for himself, but it didn’t mean Jon was leaving him behind, not even a little bit. That he’d miss him, but not too much. Only a little. Or, like, a medium-sized amount. Don’t get sappy about it.

Nope, file that all under shoulda, coulda, woulda, right there with senior prom and teaching Krypto to ride a skateboard.

Explain.

He didn’t know where to start.

He remembered the way down, even after all this time. Halfway across the bay, halfway to Gotham, take the sub deep down and down and down,  through an airlock, and there it was, resplendent in its teenage superhero headquarters glory. A couple of gaming consoles, a mini fridge he’d kept stocked with pizza rolls, a couple of fighting dummies, some assorted tech he’d never understood. All the essentials.

He expected the Fortress to reject him. He expected it to look all old and abandoned and lonely. He expected it to feel weird and foreign, like watching the old home movies his mom loved to play when she was feeling sentimental. Instead, it looked... fine. There was still a half-empty box of pizza rolls in the fridge, nowhere near its sell-by date. The Mountain Dew he’d left on the couch had barely gone flat. He had an old pair of socks strewn on the floor, and a hoodie draped on the back of his favorite gaming chair.

It was exactly the same, as if he’d never left.

Experimentally, Jon picked up the hoodie, and slid it on. As he’d thought, it was too small, stretching tight on his arms, straining against his shoulders. It was still studded with Krypto’s fur, still smelled like gym class and his parents’ detergent, just a little. He needed to get new clothes--almost everything in his closet was about five years too small, so he’d liberated a few things from his dad’s closet, but Clark was built, like, well, Superman. 

He was sure he looked funny then, a gangling scarecrow in a too-small hoodie and a too-big tee shirt. Out of place, out of time. Out of his mind, too, probably. This whole thing was a weird nostalgia head trip. If he blinked, he was ten years old again, excitedly tripping over the corrugated metal flooring, proudly declaring it the FORTRESS OF ATTITUDE!, dreaming up a whole team, a future, in this magic clubhouse he shared with his best friend, who was older and scarier but also half his height, so. They were just about even.

Where was Damian?

Jon didn’t know if he wanted to see him. He didn’t know why he was here, really. Maybe he was looking for him? Maybe he was avoiding him? He didn’t know how to tell him. How did you tell him? Maybe his dad had told Damian’s dad, who’d passed it on in turn, in that weird growly I am the night voice that Damian swore up and down he’d inherited (he hadn’t). This place was so strange and empty without Damian’s vitriol to fill it, but Jon wondered if it wouldn’t be worse with it. Maybe that would be one step too many, one move too quick.

And then something moved, and Jon turned, and he didn’t have time to anxiety spiral any longer. It didn’t matter what he wanted now--Damian was here. He looked exactly the same, and Jon didn’t. Not even a little bit.

He gulped.

“Sup, nerd.”

Here’s the thing: Jon really had thought he’d disappeared. Years out there faded into a blur after long enough, but two thoughts had sustained him. One: I have to get home. Two: They’re worried about me. The second one was more of a question, really. Were they worried? He didn’t want his family and friends to be worried, because he didn’t want to upset them, but he didn’t want them to forget about him, either. A little worry meant they cared. It meant they wanted him back as much as he wanted to to get home.

And then he’d gotten back, and he hadn’t disappeared at all. There had been some nebulous “yeah, Jon’s out of town for the summer” type stuff going on, but that was it. A few weeks. Not even long enough for new PS Plus games to be released. And there were his friends and family, more shocked by the fact that they’d never known he was missing in the first place. 

He blushed and ducked his head. People liked him, sure, but not all that many called him friend--his whole existence came with a cape-load of baggage. Hearing Nia say it? Kinda weird. Kinda nice. “Thanks,” he said. “I think. I’m not planning on doing it anytime soon. Err, uh. Not again, anyway.”

It was supposed to have been a week. Three, tops. A summer vacation--sleepaway camp, but to space!--to get a better handle on that pesky little extraterrestrial legacy of his was.

Clark and Lois had raised him as human as they possibly could. There was the farm, a dog (who had his own set of powers, sure, but that was a separate problem), video games, Converse, thick-framed glasses just in case anyone looked at him a little too closely. They’d done their best, and they’d done a pretty good job of it, too, all things considered. He’d made it through middle school with all his limbs intact (yeah, he was indestructible, but it was still middle school). But he’d always been more than. 

He’d look up at the stars speckling that open Kansas sky and wonder what it was like out there, what a world that no longer existed would think of him and his knobbly knees and his cowlick. He was too human to be alien and too alien to be human, and probably legally not allowed to take a 23andMe for risk of starting an international security crisis.

It was easier to ignore when he was little and didn’t know better, but as he got older, Jon started to understand what his dad being Superman meant. But he wouldn’t really understood it until he got out there, and when he did, he understood it better than he’d ever anticipated. So that was what it was to keep going because you knew it was the right thing to do, the good thing to do, even when everything in you was terrified. That was what it was to buckle up and fend for yourself before you were ready because you didn’t have another choice.

The difference was, though, when it all went sideways, Jon still had had a home and a family to come back to. There was no chance any of them would find him up there, so he’d had to find them, and he did. It just took a little longer than he’d expected. For him. The newspapers he’d found? Barely three weeks past the day he’d left.

She should have been intimidating--really, she was, to most people. But his best friend was a pint-sized assassin with an attitude problem and a ninja complex, and his dad was Superman, and he’d figured out young that he could super his way out of most problems if it came down to it. Jon didn’t really pay attention to “intimidating.”

But he did like her. She reminded him of Damian, actually. Maybe it was just the spooky I am the night thing, but maybe there was something else. He liked to think he was a pretty good judge of character. She seemed alright.

He crossed his arms and laughed. “Me, murderous?” he said. “Yeah, right. I think you’re mixing me up with the bat kids--which I’m not, by the way. Very much not, thanks. They’re so... creepy.” Jon shrugged. “But, yeah, I’d like a warning if you’re about to get murdery, too, okay? We try to avoid it around here when we can.”

Jon looked at him--really looked at him, with that one-eyebrow-lifted, “are you serious” stare he’d inherited from his dad. It was a few steps back from heat vision, but the intensity wasn’t far off. It was already pretty weird. Summer vacation in space? Sure, why not! It wasn’t supposed to take years, and he wasn’t supposed to finally make it home only to find that no time had passed at all on earth.

He wasn’t supposed to be an adult now. Everyone else was supposed to have aged with him.

Yeah, that was weird. How could it get weirder? (Except, y’know, as soon as you challenged the universe with that kind of dare, it would find a way, and Jon really just wanted to take a long bath and a good nap.)

So he stared at Dick, stared down at him, because he was too tall now--again, weird--and shrugged. “I don’t--I don’t really want to think about what that would even look like,” he said. “But if you think it’s possible? Sure, why not. Might as well. Seems about right at this point.”

hi pals it’s me back at it with a dc muse (unheard of, i know)! jon will have a real full bio up eventually, but for now, i’ve got some info below the cut. let me know if you want to plot, and i’ll come to you! (starter memes also to come soon)