#tsf

♡ "i fucking yearn for you and you haven't so much as spared me a glance in years!"

~~

Jon lounged comfortably along Damian's bed, Alfred the cat curled against his stomach, purring as Jon stroked his fur.

Jon was fuming.

Because he had to lay here and keep his thoughts to himself as Damian looked at himself in the mirror and readied for his date with someone from the Wayne social circle who'd been courting him for months.

His date not with Jon.

(Not like it was Damian's fault - not like he knew Jon had been in love with him since they were teenagers, almost five years ago.)

Alfred seemed to notice his melancholy though, and gave a little chirp as he stretched his arm and tapped Jon's nose.

"I agree, Alfred." Damian hummed. "He is pouting."

"Am not." Jon mumbled, curling around Alfred. The cat touched his nose to Jon's. "I just...didn't realize you getting ready would take so long."

"Apologies, I was expecting different weather." Damian said, voice actually sympathetic as he fiddled with a button on his shirt. "Now, what's really bothering you?"

"Nothing."

"Jon." Damian said sharply. Jon didn't look up, but he knew Damian was probably looking at him in the mirror. "I've known you for a decade, I know when you're lying."

"...It's fine." Jon whispered, hiding his face along Alfred's back. "We should focus on your date." Quieter, only to Alfred. "Not the fact that I've been in love with you for eons or anything."

"What was that?" Damian called. Jon mumbled again, and Alfred gave a meow that sounded like a laugh. Damian huffed and turned around. "Jon-"

"I said I fucking yearn for you and you haven't so much as spared me a glance in years!" Jon twitched, immediately gasping like someone stole the air from his lungs.

He...hadn't meant to say that. Honest. Never. This was Damian's day. He was here as Damian's best friend. Supportive best friend. Nothing more. Nothing else.

Still, he pressed his face further into Alfred, closed his eyes for good measure. He should leave. He should leave right now and maybe never show his face to Damian again-

"...Yearn?" Damian repeated softly. "That's...quite a word, Mr. Reporter."

Jon shook his head. Alfred meowed in annoyance. "I know, it's stupid, I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"So what are you going to do about it?"

Jon sat up on reflex, looking at Damian in shock. Damian's hands were on his hips, his partially buttoned shirt exposing just enough of his throat to make Jon's mouth go dry.

"Y-Your date..."

"Oh, I didn't mention? It was merely a favor to Father. I'll happily cancel." Damian said quickly through a smirk, a blush rushing up his exposed chest. "Now answer my-"

And despite what people thought, Jon was smart. A detective in his own right. And like Damian had just said, they've known each other for a decade. No one knew each other better than them.

(But he was still an idiot for not realizing Damian's own feelings sooner.)

The sentence wasn't even out of Damian's mouth before Jon was before him, cradling his face with gentle hands and kissing him with a fierceness Damian only knew from battle.

He melted in Jon's hands, leaning into Jon's chest and hanging on to his hips to steady himself.

It was everything Jon ever dreamed. (And he dreamed about it a lot.)

He doesn't know how long it was until they broke apart, but when they did, they were both out of breath and red-faced. Damian looked up at him, green eyes sparkling from between Jon's fingers. "...Years, huh?"

A warm greenleaf brought a promise of hope and peace to the Fjords Clans, although not all shared such a happy outlook on the future.

A young Shadowclan warrior, Yewsnap, was eyeing a plentiful Guarden that was discovered near the Windclan border. It was no secret that when the last blanket of snow melts, the two neighbors would want this plentiful territory for themselfs. A cascade of rumors and whispers flooded the two clans, cats silently wondering about who will strike first.