#poor jon

Babs: This is my girlfriend, Kara.

Tim: This is my boyfriend, Kon.

Damian: This is my boyfriend-

"Crane and me are both doctors, speaking in special doctor code"

Yeahhh....sure.....

Oh man, I can't even imagine the nightmares he has

Look at this poor man, I'm surprised he can run!

I am LIVING for this Harley, being so supportive of Jonathan in this time. Now this? This is good content -- abiet bittersweet

Pls. He is such baby. -immediately shot by the fandom police-

WELL FUCK

This snippet is so far removed from the context of the larger fic that I can't even imagine what yall are gonna think it's even about, which means it's perfect to throw out as a writing prompt for anyone that's interested haha

---

Well.

Good news: Jon had something that very publicly proved he couldn't be Superboy.

Bad news: his proof came in the form of getting his nose broken in front of the entire school cafeteria.

Weird news: tiny, waifish Danielle Masters - of all people - was the one who managed to actually break his nose when he'd stepped in to try to pull her off of Trip Hemmings.

She wasn't Kryptonian. Not unless Trip and his cronies were also secretly Kryptonians this whole time. She'd fucked them all up almost single-handedly when they'd tried to pull their usual shit with Fredrick Kern and she stepped in. But they were the ones that had started the whole messy fight when Trip decided to sucker punch the petite girl hard enough that the loud, ugly crunch of her broken nose had been heard even over the noise of the cafeteria, shoving her back into the cafeteria table and sending Fredrick's food flying.

She'd gotten slammed a couple more times during the scuffle, but she had given far more than she'd gotten and by the time Jon and Damian and managed to make their way through the crowd of students that had rapidly swarmed the scene of the fight, Trip's two goons were laying on the ground, conscious but groaning in pain and decidedly taken out of the fight.

Jon had surged forward through the crush of the gathered students towards where Danielle and Trip were. The latter sprawled across the table with Danielle on top of him, bleeding and bruised and feral looking with her bared teeth and wild eyes as she wailed down punch after punch on Trip's face. The fight was well and truly over at that point, Danielle clearly the victor, and teachers were on their way. Without even thinking about it Jon had reached out and touched her arm, intending to pull her off the little shit she was rightly wailing on before she could get in even more trouble for being involved with a fight.

It hadn’t been the wisest course of action. Danielle had been so keyed up she hadn't even realized it was him or absorbed anything he'd said, and assuming it was someone looking to hurt her turned one of her swings onto him. He'd had the spit second thought of how he was going to avoid the hit without looking like he had powers when her fist had collided with his face at a speed he hadn’t expected and sent him sprawling to the ground. It wasn't until he felt something hot dripping down his face that he realized she'd actually broken his nose and the pain flooded in.

So.

Danielle Masters was strong enough to break his nose. And still hadn’t managed to hurt anyone else - including fragile, normal humans - past some bad bruised and busted noses. She'd likely hit him as hard as she had out of blind reaction and not true intention to do real harm.

That was a thing.

A weird thing with some big implications.

D had checked, and Danielle Masters wasn't registered as a meta. Which didn't mean she wasn't one or that there was even anything nefarious going on. The uber-rich elite tended to cover things like that up, fine with meta rights and metas running around so long as it wasn't one of their own.

But it was still something.

She was strong enough to break Jon's nose. The number of entities in the world able to do that wasn't a very long list. The fact that a random girl at his school was capable of that was...not necessarily anything to be worried about. But the thing was that Danielle Masters was already someone he and D had been keeping an eye on as being...a little bit beyond the normal kind of weird. And that wasn't even getting into her dad's shady business or the potential connection between her and the weird spike in suicides.

“Here,” He blinked, pulled out of his thoughts at once to find the girl taking up all of them had shifted in her chair over to him to hold out an actual handkerchief to him. “Sorry about…” She motioned with her other hand towards his bloody face, wincing a little as she did. “You didn’t deserve that.”

He took the offered piece of fabric - oddly formal and old fashioned for anyone, let alone a girl like Danielle Masters - as the peace offering it was and offered her an awkward smile. “It was my fault for coming at you from behind,” He said, trying not to be too amused by the fact that they both sounded muffled and ridiculous with their busted noses. “I should have known better after you got jumped like that.”

Danielle shrugged, shifting back into the uncomfortable chairs they’d been parked in outside the dean’s office. The teachers on site were going over the situation with him as they had seen it, and from what Jon could hear were reviewing the CCTV footage from the cafeteria cameras. Trip’s family wasn’t prestigious or wealthy enough for the faculty to put aside their ethics and take his side, so their honest thoughts about the bully getting what he deserved - however annoying it was that they were going to have to deal with it all - shared freely from the perceived privacy of the office. Elle would still get punished for going as far as she did, but at least it wouldn’t be as bad as it could be for her.

“Assholes will be assholes.” She said, toying with the tie of her uniform. She’d ripped it off just as the fight had started, in a brief moment between kicking Trip back into his goons and them recovering enough to jump at her again. She had wrapped it around the knuckles of her dominant hand in a fast loop, giving her a little more protection before she then drove her padded fist right into the gut of Jordan Stone. She had followed it up by grabbing Jordan’s own tie and using it to get enough leverage on him to send him flying into Erin Dorner.

It was the kind of quick-thinking adjustment that Jon associated with D. Removing a potential liability, making it an advantage, latching on to any and all weakness in the opposition and using it against them. He wasn’t an expert in hand-to-hand combat the way Damian was - he could hold his own and knew how to fight with his fists as well as his powers, but there was a big difference between his skill and D’s - but he knew enough to be able to tell that Danielle wasn’t formerly trained. She was fast and quick and clever, but everything she did spoke of scrabbling street fighting brawls and learning from painful experience.

Something else to add to the seemingly endless list of things that were weird about Danielle Masters.

Because why would the daughter of one of the richest men in the country know how to scrap like a street fighter? Most rich kids didn’t really know how to fight at all, or if they did it was self-defense lessons taught by the best martial artists in the world. Maybe it was because of her meta powers? A fear of it getting out if she was taught to fight and ended up destroying a training dummy right with a single hit? But then how did she know to fight at all?

He teased Damian for going all Bernard Dowd on him for the oversized corkboard with all the notes and pictures and red thread, but Jon got it. Every new insight into the enigma that was Danielle Masters only ever led to a thousand more questions. A mystery only ever made murkier the more was known, instead of less.

—

Danielle - Elle, she’d told him to call her, a little fierce, even as her eyes were sad - hadn’t been afraid during the fight with Trip and his cronies.

Or if she had, her heart rate had never indicated it. It had risen during the fight sure, but it had been the steady quickening of a body exercising. No jackrabbit quickness, just an even increase in rate to account for her quick movements and hard hits. She hadn’t even really broken a sweat. She’d been steady the entire time, from the first sucker punch she’d taken to the face to the last she’d thrown herself at Jon.

She was scared now.

Dr. Penelope Spektor stood over the girl, usual bright, smiling face set in an unreadable mask as she stared down at Elle. Beneath the lighting of the waiting room outside the Dean’s office in her smart red suit and her glasses pushed up atop her head to rest against her bright red hair she looked almost like the devil. Jon wasn’t sure why that thought came to him. The school counselor had only ever been kind to him during the few times they’d spoken about his scholarship at Gotham Academy and his options for colleges. Maybe it was the intensity of her green eyes, the way they almost seemed to glow as they bore into Elle.

Maybe it was the way that Elle’s heartbeat had ticked up and started hammering in her chest the moment Dr. Spektor’s sharp heels were heard clicking down the hall towards them. The way she shrunk into herself as the woman moved to stand before her, above her, not saying a word. The way Elle looked like she wanted to fling herself from the chair and run as far and fast away from the woman as she could.

“I didn’t start-“ Elle’s voice was reedy, unsteady with fear and anxiety.

“Silence.”

Jon felt cold.

Elle snapped her mouth shut with a painful, jarring clack. Fast enough and hard enough to be painful. He thought he could hear one of her back molars crack from the force. He definitely heard her heart rate pick up even faster in her chest. So quick he was afraid it might just give out on her entirely. He saw the faint tremble of her hands as she wrapped them around herself, fingers digging into the fabric of her blazer with a kind of desperate hold as she clung to her own arms.

“I’ve called to inform your father of this incident.” There was a slithering, dark disgust in the words. A viciousness lacing through her icy tone. “Three days suspension. You will be spending that time with me.”

Elle looked like she might be sick at that, face draining of all color a the judgement the counselor had just given. She didn’t try to speak, to respond, just gave a stiff nod and bowed her head. Her eyes were wide as she stared down at the floor, too much white exposed. Blood dripped down from her nose again, the thundering of her pulse breaking through the clotting and making bright red drip down her face.

Dr. Spektor’s gaze slid over to where Jon sat, frozen in place by the strange scene before him. In a blink her face smoothed out, back into the pleasant, welcoming smile she always wore whenever speaking to a student. “Oh my, Mr. Kent I had heard you got injured while trying to break that horrible ruckus up earlier.” She tisked lightly, and Elle flinched a little at the sound. “I’m so sorry about that, Danielle has a bad habit of getting into trouble and I hate to see that she’s gotten you involved in her mess this time.”

Jon, for reasons he couldn’t comprehend, felt oddly at ease at her words. As strange as the feeling of being frozen in place that had overtaken him as he watched the tense scene between the school counselor and Elle. A slow, honey-thick feeling of calm, laced through with understanding and acceptance.

“It’s okay.” He said, throat feeling tight around the words. It wasn’t alright, he wanted to get to his feet, to put himself between Elle and Spektor. Wanted to drag the girl away somewhere safe and try and make her feel better, try and figure out just what was going on and why she was so afraid of the red-headed woman.

It was alright, though. He could feel it, settling into his chest, relaxing his shoulders, soothing away the tense anxiety. It was a little odd, but he just didn’t have the context of it all probably. Nothing to worry about, nothing to think about.

Elle was still hunched over, shoulder’s tight, eyes now squeazed tight. Her grip on her arms like a vice, squeezing with enough force she had to be bruising beneath the layers of her school uniform. Her heart rate a roaring drum in her chest, heart slamming painfully against the cage of her ribs, afraid, terrified.

“The fight wasn’t her fault Dr. Spektor.” He said, the words feeling like burning tar against his tongue, even though he knew the truth of them. “Trip and the other two attacked her first when she was trying to get them to leave the person they were bullying alone. She was just defending herself.”

Dr. Spektor’s lips twitched, just a little. Her expression held on her normal warm smile but something curled at the edges of her smile, the corners of her bright green eyes. Dark and deep, sharp as shattered glass and viciously, sickeningly pleased. She pulled her glasses off her head and set them back in place on her nose and the glimpse of that hungry thing beneath was gone.

Never there at all. A trick of the light. Too much time seeing the worst of humanity as Superboy and mistakenly thinking he saw it in the pleasant, kind face of the school’s counselor. Nothing to worry about at all. It was fine. He felt fine about all of it.

Elle was crying now.

He felt sick.

“Well, that is good to know.” Dr. Spektor said, voice honey sweet and lulling. “But I would hate for Danielle to fall into those old, nasty habits of hers. Better to make sure she understands that violence is never the answer.” She stepped over to him, leaning over to settle concerned eyes upon him and a gentle hand on his shoulder, surprisingly cool even through the weight of his blazer and the layers beneath. “Again I am so sorry you got hurt, Mr. Kent. I do hope Danielle can make it up to you later. She could use a good influence like you in her life.”

The sick feeling in his gut grew worse, even as his body was flooded with a sense of blissful contentment and unquestioning understanding of the situation. The vague idea that had been bubbling in him since the start of the school year to reach out to the girl in question solidified into a determined certainty that he would do just that the first chance he got. A flame flourishing at the gentle encouragement of a fan.

Just behind the school counselor Elle was terrified out of her mind.

Elle was just a little upset that she got in trouble, she’d be fine.

Dr. Spektor was treating Elle with a barely contained cruelty, venomous and wrathful.

Dr. Spektor was treating Elle normally, disappointed that she resorted to violence.

It was all wrong.

It was all perfectly fine.

The counselor stood up straight, gave him one last pat on the shoulder and a smile before turning towards the door of the Dean’s office. Her smile slipped for just a moment, face back in that disdainful blankness as she plucked invisible lint from her suit jacket. Not even looking at Elle as she gave a short, “Go to the car. Wait there. No detours. No calls. Speak to no one.”

Elle lurched into motion, getting to her feet with a mechanical kind of stiffness. She didn’t run down the hall but her awkward, robotic gate was nearly at that speed as she almost threw herself down the hall towards the side entrance where the staff parking lot was.

Dr. Spektor’s smile returned. Professional. Polite. The person everyone in school knew they could reach out to and trust if there was anything wrong, if they needed help. Guiding the students with a gentle hand, bolstering the faculty with her bright positivity. She knocked on the door and entered upon invitation with her familiar cheer.

Something was deeply, truly wrong with everything going on here.

Everything was perfectly normal.

D found him ten minutes later, dry heaving in the boys’ bathroom.

He couldn’t remember why he was there.