#DAMIAN AND JON HAVE NO INTENTION ON STAYING GROUNDED AND PLAN ON VISITING HER INSTEAD | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bouwrites · 4 years

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Even Heroes Have the Right to Dream: Chapter 12

I’m no Superman. I hope you like me as I am.

First, Previous, Next. Ao3.

Story under read-more.

Jon is fairly certain Marinette is only joking when she agrees to visit each other during the holidays, mostly because agreeing is as far as any planning for it goes. They don’t even go as far as saying they’ll do it this year, or this summer, but as far as Jon’s concerned, he’s got one summer and two holiday seasons left with Marinette before they’re just living their regular adult lives.

And he certainly doesn’t intend to let her go after college – no, he’s going to ask her to move in together permanently. Maybe they’ll even stay in New York. Or Jon will move to Paris with her. It doesn’t matter yet, they still have a year and a half before they graduate anyway, but either way Jon has no intention of letting graduation separate them.

To that end, they have their entire lives to visit each other’s homes. Even so, Jon really wants to invite Marinette back to the farm at least once for holiday. It’s criminal that they still haven’t enjoyed more than a video call for any holiday thus far. Granted Christmas was in the middle of their drama both years (Not this year, he resolves.), but they still had other opportunities!

Unfortunately, she’s always in Paris during the breaks, and Jon doesn’t want to take her away from her friends. Spring break is out, as are the breaks between semesters, so no summer or winter breaks. Jon might be able to visit her, then, especially in the summer with months without any real holiday to call the family together for, but Marinette will be treasuring the time she has with her friends in Paris, so he can’t invite her back to America and interrupt that.

But Paris is far, and there are smaller opportunities to take advantage of. Jon’s mind goes almost immediately to Thanksgiving. The break is only the end of the week, so Marinette doesn’t actually go back to Paris for it, especially since they don’t have Thanksgiving where she’s from, so she has nothing to celebrate in the first place.

Which makes it perfect, because it’ll be Marinette’s first real Thanksgiving! The Kents love Thanksgiving, and Jon is no exception. It’s just such a warm, feel-good holiday full of family, great food, and thanks for all that they have. And Jon has a lot to be thankful for, not the least of which that Marinette is in his life and hasn’t given up on him after their chaotic first years together.

He can’t even imagine where he’d be if Marinette wasn’t his roommate. If he had come to New York two years ago and found himself in this little apartment with Jesse instead of her, where would he be? Still hiding, no doubt. From the hero life he left behind, from his own instincts to protect, maybe even from his lineage. If he didn’t have Marinette to work with, would he have found his ideals? Would he know yet what he wants his life to be? Would he ever have had the example to fix his ideals around, or would he still be struggling to reconcile Justice and Peace?

The Girod is certainly not an easy standard to live up two. Eleven virtues, all embodied in one man. Jon still thinks it’s impossible to truly achieve, but they offer him guidance, a path to follow now that he’s cast aside the one his dad put in front of him. Marinette is that path, and the Girod is just the handrails. What he finds living with Marinette, normal or not, is what he wants. He’s certain of that. The Girod guide him further if he stumbles or gets distracted, but the path is and always was, from the moment he arrived in New York, Marinette.

No offense to Damian, but she’s his best friend. Jon will follow her to hell and back, and he knows with absolute certainty she will never ask him to compromise his peace for her – that’s why he can so easily charge down the path hand in hand with her. They made a promise, to themselves and to each other. A promise that no one else in Jon’s life, no matter how much he loves and trusts them, would ever make. A life of peace. To find that together. He trusts her, and he does his best to live up to her trust in him, keeping her on the path she tells him she wants just as she does for him.

Jesse is a great guy, but Jon will never find that with him. If Jon had come to New York and roomed with him instead, Jon’s sure they’d be great friends, but… Jesse could never be the rock that Jon needs to keep him grounded. Very few people could. In fact, it might just be her.

When Jon itches to fly, all he needs to do is look at Marinette, and all that desire disappears. He’s content on the ground, if Marinette is with him. That is something extraordinary.

It’s selfish of him to want more, but he does. He wants to share more. He wants to have those loud, boisterous party experiences with her, those intimate family moments of holidays with her, he wants to take her flying, not off to any goal, just to the horizon, to see what she’ll do so high up in the sky. It’s selfish, but it’s also what he wants. He can’t just not try, not without sacrificing something dear to him. And he’s not a hero anymore, so he’s not sacrificing a thing.

So, while Marinette is out working on her commissions for the Wayne’s Christmas party, Jon starts making dinner and uses the time, also, to call his mom.

“Hi, Jon!” His mom coos through the phone. “I wasn’t expecting a call today. Are you cooking?”

“Getting started, yeah.” Jon smiles to the image of his mom on the phone, perched on the counter so he has his hands free. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. I’m always available for my boy.”

Jon gets all his pots and pans in order before focusing on the ingredients themselves. “So, I actually called to ask you something.”

“Yes? What is it?”

“You know my roommate, Marinette? She’s from Paris.”

“Yes, you talk about her a lot.” Jon flushes despite himself. His mom sounds so teasing about it, and Jon can’t help but let the implication fluster him. “What about her?”

Jon can’t seem to look at the phone as he draws in his breath for his next words. He focuses instead on preparing dinner. “I was wondering if it’d be alright if I asked her to have Thanksgiving with us. They don’t have Thanksgiving in Paris, so she’s usually just hanging out here alone when I go back. I thought it’d be nice to invite her.”

A glance tells him his mother has that knowing smirk that she always has when she knows more than she should. Jon just pointedly focuses on the vegetables and tries to ignore how his cheeks burn. It’s not like that. “That’s a wonderful idea, Jon.” His mom says. “We’d love to have her over.”

Jon breathes out a sigh. “Awesome.” Now I just need to ask Marinette if she even wants to come. “I’ll bring it up with her when she gets home.”

“Oh, is she busy?”

Jon nods. “Damian hired her to make his family’s outfits for their Christmas party, so she’s been working a bit later on that. She’ll be home in time for dinner, though.”

“That’s good. I hope she isn’t neglecting her studies for Damian.”

Jon snorts. “Don’t worry, I’m making sure she studies. Lord knows she’s told me to study enough times. I got to repay the favor.”

His mom laughs. “It sounds like I should thank her. I’m glad you two are there for each other.”

Jon smiles down at the vegetables on his cutting board. “Yeah. Me too. I’m lucky to have ended up with her.”

“No doubt about that.” His mom says. “Now the only question is: when we introduce her to your grandparents, will it be as your roommate, or as your girlfriend?”

“Mom!” Jon fumbles for a moment with his knife and shrinks a little as he gives up and just throws the vegetables in the bowl they’re meant to go in. “It’s not like that!”

“Are you sure?” His mom asks calmly. “Because the last time I’ve seen you this smitten with someone, it was Damian Wayne back in-”

“We don’t talk about that!” Jon only burns hotter at the mention of Damian. To himself, he whines, “Marinette teases me about that enough.” Louder, after clearing his throat awkwardly, he says, “And I’m not smitten!”

“Oh, honey. You’re basically married.”

“We live together.” Jon counters. “The domestic stuff is just being decent roommates.”

“I’m not talking about cooking for her, Jon. I’m talking about how you’re always talking about her. Even Damian noticed you always bring her up.”

Do I? Jon thinks back and realizes that his mom is totally right. That’s why Sam looks so irritated with him when they talk. Every time she tries to flirt or compliment him, he’d… well it must look to her like he deflects to compliment Marinette. He thinks he’s just being friendly and sharing a pretty major part of his life. Maybe I should be a little more careful next time I talk to her.

But that doesn’t mean anything. “She’s my best friend!” Jon says. “Of course, I talk about her.”

“Just like when you couldn’t shut up about your best friend Damian, right?”

“Mom!” Jon whines, drawing the word out.

“Okay, okay, I’m only teasing. You should be ready for it, though. You bringing a girl home will definitely set your grandparents off.”

Jon groans loudly. That’s probably true. Unfortunately, there’s not much he can do about it. He’ll just have to suck it up. Besides, there are much worse things in life than being mistaken for Marinette’s boyfriend. He and Marinette know what they’re doing, mostly, and they’re not kids anymore. They can handle assumptions. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.

“Are you excited?” Jon bounces in his seat, leaning over to Marinette, who is pressing herself close to the window to watch the farmland pass them by.

“I am!” Marinette’s eyes sparkle as she takes in the scenery. It’s just flat and honestly pretty drab, but she’s looking at it like a whole new world. Jon supposes that it is, to her. “I’ve never celebrated Thanksgiving before. And it’s so pretty out here! I feel like I can see for miles!”

“You can.” Jon’s dad says from the front seat. “On clear nights, you can even see the light from Metropolis.”

“That’s amazing! Thank you all so much for inviting me!”

“It’s our pleasure to have you, Marinette. Jon talks about you all the time. We’re all very happy to finally meet you properly.”

“Yes! I’m so happy to have this chance to get to know you, as well!”

Marinette is practically glued to the window for the entire drive, and frequently takes pictures with her phone of the speeding vast emptiness surrounding them. Wide fields of dirt or low-lying crops with the occasional tree or copse (usually as windbreakers surrounding property) is the exact opposite of exciting for Jon, but for a girl raised in Paris who has never been in the American countryside, it’s a completely new experience. Jon wagers she’s never seen so much sky.

If the way she clutches her sketchbook and scribbles in it without hardly looking down at it is any indication, it’s inspiring, too. That makes Jon happy. That’s part of the reason he wants to invite her back to the farm. A completely new setting for her is sure to spark some creativity. Just wait until she sees the stars.

When they roll off the asphalt and onto the packed dirt path leading to their home, Marinette loses none of the awe. In a hushed whisper, straight into Jon’s ear as she grabs his arm, she says, “I’ve never been on a dirt road before.” Which, now that he thinks about it, makes sense, but is such a little thing he would never have realized had she not told him directly.

Then they spill out of the car and Marinette gasps, staring at the horizon uninterrupted by the Kent home. Jon smiles at his parents and gestures for them to go on. He’ll wait with Marinette for as long as she wants to revel in the sight, ordinary as it may be to him. “Jon!” She grabs his arm tightly, hugging it unthinkingly. “It’s… I can see forever. It’s like being on top of the Eiffel Tower, except I’m on the ground. And the air! It feels so different!” She giggles breathlessly. “I can’t believe you live here.”

Jon smiles fondly down at her, warm from her touch. “It’s cleaner out here, right? Hard to find fresh air like this in a city.” He agrees. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She looks up at him and smiles, an ear to ear grin that shines like the sun. “Me, too. Thank you again for inviting me.”

Jon’s stomach flutters in an interesting way that makes his cheeks burn. Sharing little things like this with Marinette is probably his new favorite thing in the world. Seeing the inspiration in her eyes, how her excitement reminds him to appreciate the view he’s long considered uninteresting. Just because the view is a whole lot of nothing doesn’t mean there’s nothing to appreciate. The emptiness itself is as awesome as the greatest of cities.

Jon gives Marinette a brilliant smile and says, “Come on, let’s get inside. I’m sure my grandparents are getting impatient to meet you.”

“Oh! Of course! Sorry for taking so long.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

Marinette separates from him and starts towards the house. Jon opens the door for her, smiling because he can already hear movement in the kitchen. No doubt that’s his grandma, getting started on the pies.

“Ah, there you are!” Jon’s grandpa says with a glint in his eyes as he examines the two. “We thought for a moment you’d gotten lost on your way in.”

“Ha ha.” Jon rolls his eyes. Those dad jokes will never be funny. Or, never not be funny? It’s a weird balance. “This is my friend Marinette.” He nudges her gently to introduce her.

“Of course, of course. It’s nice to meet you, Marinette. Jonno’s told us all a lot about you.” Marinette politely shakes his hand as he says, “I’m Jonathan, or just Grandpa if you’re under this roof.”

Marinette makes an odd expression that strikes Jon as somewhere between amused and uncomfortable. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kent.”

Leaning close to Jon, as if to speak as an aside but not lowering his voice nearly enough for it to matter, Jon’s grandpa says, “Ah, she’s too polite for you, boy.”

Jon wants to retort, but he’s honestly not sure whether to be offended at the implication that he’s anything but a gentleman. He knows his grandpa is just teasing him, so he doesn’t take serious offense to it, but still.

“Do my ears deceive me? Is she here?” Suddenly, Jon’s grandma comes out of the kitchen, brushing her hands on her apron, making a beeline for the two youngest. She immediately gives Marinette a hug, and holds her still to examine her. “Oh, you’re just the prettiest little thing! Please, make yourself at home. I was just getting started on the pies for tomorrow.”

Marinette stands a little straighter at the mention of baking. “Can I help?” She asks.

Jon interjects to say, “Marinette’s parents are bakers in Paris. She grew up in a bakery.”

Marinette flushes a little and fiddles with the turtle Miraculous around her wrist. “I- yes, that’s true, but truth be told I don’t have much experience baking pies. Not the kind you have here, anyway. I’ve always wanted to try, but they’re not as common in Paris as they are here. I never had reason to.”

“Will you be able to handle using American measurements, though?” Jon teases.

“Of course, I can. Because I’m not a baby who refuses to try new things.”

“You literally insist our recipe book is written with European measurements.”

“No, I just take the effort to convert things for myself. If you want to convert the recipes into your measurements, then you’re more than welcome to.”

Jon makes a face. “But that’s so much math.”

“Then don’t complain.” Marinette pokes him playfully. She looks back to the adults, as if remembering they’re there, and composes herself again. “Ah, but, may I please, Mrs. Kent?”

“Call me Martha, honey. And you don’t have to help cook. You’re a guest here.”

“But I enjoy it!” Marinette says eagerly. “And I want to. Jon’ll help, too.”

Martha hums thoughtfully. “The more the merrier, then. Let’s find you an apron.”

As Martha leads them to the kitchen and the rest of the adults start talking amongst themselves, Jon is pulled closer to Marinette so she can whisper to him. “Your grandparents are adorable!” She says, grinning giddily. “Their accents are so cute!”

“So’s yours.” Jon says back. He feels satisfied when she blushes at the comment but is quickly brought out of their little conversation with the aprons his grandma hands them.

They fall into the groove of preparing the pies for a while, conversing lightly as they do. Marinette and Martha get on like a house on fire, mostly talking about recipes, which Jon watches fondly. Apple, classic American. Pecan, necessary for Thanksgiving. Pumpkin, also a staple. Pies spend a lot of time in the oven, but between bakes conversation never lulls. If things in the kitchen die down, someone from the living room will pop in and liven things up again. Jon is even dragged outside at one point to fix the tractor, and Marinette follows out of self-admitted fascination.

Jon explains what he’s doing as he does it for Marinette’s sake, but he’s pretty sure it goes mostly over her head. She probably doesn’t know much about machinery like the tractor in the first place, so he doesn’t expect her to grasp the details. All he knows is that he needs to wash the oil off his hands, and better yet take a whole shower (it’s late November, so he’s not exactly sweaty, but the inside of a tractor isn’t clean, no matter how hard he tries to avoid getting covered in filth) before he goes anywhere near the kitchen again.

It’s only after Marinette assures him she’ll be fine alone with his family for a while that he does so, though. She’s talked to his parents before in passing over the phone, but ultimately today is the first time she’s really met any of them except him. He doesn’t want to just leave her feeling uncomfortable without him around, and he notices that she gets a little quiet while he’s working on the tractor, so he’s worried. But she insists and practically pushes him into the bathroom herself, so he has little choice but to relent. It’s not like he wants to stay filthy, anyway.

When he steps out of the shower, warm and refreshed, he realizes it’s getting late. So, he throws on some pants and goes to ask Marinette where she’ll be most comfortable. “Unfortunately, my grandparents have the guest room.” He tells her, guiding her to his own room. “So, you can take my bed. I can sleep on the floor, or on the couch in the living room if you’d rather have the space to yourself.”

Marinette reels back at the very idea. “I can’t take your bed from you, Jon! I can sleep on the floor, it’s fine.”

Jon chuckles good-naturedly. He knows what she’s doing, and he’s not about to let her. “Not a chance, Marinette. You’re a guest here. You get a proper bed. I’m not budging on that.”

Marinette rolls her eyes. “I’m not kicking you out of your bed!”

“You’re not. I’m offering it.”

“Jon! I’m serious, I’m no- woah.” A slow grin stretches across Marinette’s face when Jon opens the door to his room. “This is your room?!” She gasps, following his gesture to step inside.

It’s not hard to guess what she’s looking at. The lights are still off in here, and her head is tilted back, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars all over his ceiling and the free space on his walls. Jon checks out the window, just to see that there are clouds covering the real stars. Shame. Hopefully that clears up tomorrow. If she’s impressed by this, just wait until she sees the real thing.

Truth be told, he doesn’t think much of those glow-in-the-dark stars anymore. He put them up with his dad when he was little and never bothered taking them down unless he needed space on the wall for whatever reason. There’s so many of them, it’d just be a hassle to clean up if he did, and they don’t bother him, so he doesn’t need to. They’re just part of the background of the room. He’d actually forgotten they were there until Marinette points them out.

“Yep.” He says. His eyes search the stars, finding a set of them at the wall opposite his bed, where he’s facing when he’s lying in it.

“It’s so pretty.” Marinette says softly. “And it almost looks like… are those real constellations?”

Jon laughs, mostly to himself. “Yeah, I had a pretty big astronomy phase as a kid. You can imagine why.” Marinette giggles in agreement. “I found some star maps and, together with Dad, put all these up.” He looks fondly at the dim, glow-in-the-dark stars for the first time in a long time. Maybe years. It’s hard to believe, when he looks at them with the appreciation he used to, that he had ever lost that wonder.

The true sky just outside his window is better still, and he never abandoned his wonder for that, but this is… this is special, too. It’s nice to be reminded of that.

Jon looks at Perseus at the end of his bed and smiles. Initially, Jon wanted to put Corvus there, where he can most easily see it, since from Earth’s perspective, that’s where Krypton is located, but Corvus is a southern constellation so even when it is visible in the real sky outside here, it’s low down and doesn’t work well as a starting point for the rest of the sky map of his room. And Perseus, the hero, is just as good. Better, even, since Jon never connected to Krypton, but to heroes? That’s what Jon wanted since he was born.

(And maybe he also read The Lightning Thief at just around the same time his astronomy phase got into full gear. Sue him.)

It’s funny in hindsight. If he wanted it a little less badly, hadn’t tried so hard to reach it, maybe he would have been more ready when he did. Maybe be wouldn’t be turning his back on it now. Maybe now would only be his start.

But pointless hypotheticals get him nowhere. He likes where he’s at now. He likes being with Marinette and working together towards their mutual life of peace. It gives him meaning that he doesn’t need to fill with heroism, and it gives him perspective, so he can gaze upon Perseus and smile, even if it’s a tad weak. He wouldn’t change a thing about his life, if it has led him to this moment.

Even if he does still have to argue with Marinette over who gets the bed. (He wins, in the end, and smugly pulls a spare pillow and blanket out to put on the couch.)

Thanksgiving goes about as expected. Marinette fits in seamlessly with the family and insists on helping with the cooking. There are a few too many of them to all be in the small kitchen at once, but they agree to take turns and split the work of making each dish. While it’s his parent’s turn in the kitchen, Jon’s grandfather has to coax Marinette into throwing a football with them to get her to abandon her spot at the oven.

It’s a lot of laughing and running after the ball, since even though Marinette is coordinated and has a mean arm, she’s literally never thrown a football in her life until today. She’s awkward with it and always apologizing for every wildly inaccurate throw, but it’s still a nice time overall.

Aunt Kara shows up, too, and she immediately adores Marinette. She fawns over her almost as much as she fawns over Jon, which is saying something. For her part, Marinette takes it in stride, eagerly striking up conversation and spending so long just chatting that Jon’s grandfather eventually gives up on including the girls in their game of catch altogether.

Eventually, they gather for the meal itself. Jon makes sure to sit next to Marinette and watches her closely. She seems a bit awkward, maybe even startled, when Martha says grace, but she relaxes again quickly, noticing Kara waiting politely but clearly not participating, and then fully relaxing at the “Amen.” Then, they eat. It’s not all that different from any other meal, except they’re sharing it with more people.

They eat, they watch a football game on television, they laugh, they chat, and it’s all normal. It’s family. And Jon couldn’t be happier.

He keeps an eye on the sky, though. He still wants to show Marinette the stars. The real ones. So far, so good, and when the sun finally goes down, Jon sighs with relief.

He catches Marinette with her sketchbook, sitting on his bed as she hums a tune to herself and sketches. Reluctant to interrupt her, he waits for a moment until she looks up and smiles at him. “Want to see something really special?” He asks, holding out his hand for her.

Marinette grins widely and takes it. He squeezes her hand gently and guides her to the door. His parents absolutely notice them leaving, but aside from some pointed looks they don’t interrupt. That works for him.

They step outside and he barely manages to tell her to look up before he’s interrupted by her gasp. “You weren’t kidding…” She breathes, fixated on the stars.

“Right?” Jon asks, equally breathless. He grabs her other hand, so he’s holding both her hands, and looks up with her. More stars than he can count stretch out before them. The entire night sky is a light show just for them, more extravagant and more beautiful than any city, in his opinion. It’s something that just can’t be replicated, no matter how devoted a twelve-year-old may be. Sometimes, Jon sees this, the soft glow of the galaxy, a gentle band promised to the inky sky, and wants nothing more than to fly up into it. Today, the starbursts between his fingers and Marinette’s is more than enough for him.

“Thank you for showing me this.” Marinette’s voice is small, vulnerable, and when Jon looks closely, he can see the sparkle of the stars in her eyes. They’re a little too wet, but Jon smiles knowing she’s just overwhelmed. It truly is a beautiful sight.

“Want to get a little closer?”

Marinette blinks the wetness away – no tears fall – and looks strangely at him. “Closer? What do you…?”

Jon lifts just a foot off the ground, never letting go of her hands but leaning forward so as not to pull her feet off the ground.

Marinette grins from ear to ear and agrees. “Hold on tight.” He says ensuring she has her arms firmly over his shoulders and he’s holding her just as tightly himself. She’s pressed up against him, head on his shoulder, eyes on the stars.

Jon swears he will never forget the look on her face when he rises into the air. As the house and the trees fall away and all that’s present anymore is her, him, and the constellations. It’s a look of awe, of wonder and bright, bright light, like the stars themselves. The universe he spends so long gazing at out here is written on her face, its constellations in her freckles and its burn in her eyes. There’s so much beauty all around them, but all Jon sees is her.

He leans back just a little, drifting in that direction, and then with a cheeky smile, he spins abruptly. Marinette squeaks and clutches him tighter, and then glowers cutely at him when she calms down. “What?” He asks, innocently.

“Don’t do that!” Marinette pouts.

“No?” Jon gives her his best puppy eyes. “You don’t want me to go…”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Over,” Jon dips her, giggling at her small shriek, “sideways,” he spins again, and Marinette starts laughing along with him, “and under?”

Truthfully, playing around too much is dangerous. Marinette can’t fly, after all, but Jon lays back in the air, letting Marinette lay atop him, essentially using him as a platform. She smacks his chest lightly. “You’re mean.”

“I can show you the world!” Jon starts singing, loudly. He and Marinette both know he can sing better than he does, but being off-key only makes them both giggle harder. “Shining, shimmering, splendid!” He doesn’t know what comes over him that makes his boisterous, off-key yell give way at the next line, but it does. Instead, he barely whispers it. It’s just a sigh in the wind. “Tell me, princess, now when did you last let your heart decide?”

Marinette blushes deeply, but laughs. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Jon chuckles. “But you’re stuck with me.”

Marinette hugs him tightly, rests her head on his chest and sighs contentedly, and Jon swears his heart skips a beat. “Thanks, Jon. This has been… there are no words. I’m so glad we met.”

Jon smiles softly. He has to resist the urge to kiss the top of her head. “Hey, that’s what Thanksgiving is about.” He takes another breath, but thinks better of it and instead says, “Hold on, let’s get down from here. I’ll show you one of my favorite places.”

Marinette nods silently against him, so he flies slowly over to his favorite tree and sets her down on his perch. They sit together, watching the stars, and Jon says, “I’m so thankful to have met you, you know. I… you gave me direction when I didn’t have any. You showed me what life without being a hero can be, and you helped me figure out what I want it to be. I hadn’t thought about that before. I always assumed, even later on when I hated it, that I’d always be Superboy. Or… or that I’d eventually be Superman.

“Marinette, I… I can’t imagine life without you. I have so much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving, and you’re… so much of it.” He sighs. “I wish I knew how to tell you how much it means. This doesn’t feel like enough, but… thank you. Thank you for sticking by me. Even when you found out I was Superboy, even when I doubt myself and whether I can really live peacefully- hell, even that, even looking for peace is because of you. If not for you I might still be chasing some unattainable ‘normal’ that I’ll never reach. I… It’d be an exaggeration to say you saved my life, but… you definitely changed it. For the better. I’m happier now than…” He lets out a weak chuckle and looks away. “Well, yeah. That’s what I wanted to say. I’m just… really thankful that you’re a part of my life.”

He sits there, cheeks burning, looking for constellations in the grass, for a long time. Then, Marinette’s melodic voice, strained ever so slightly, makes him jump. “I’m thankful for you, too.” She says. “When I left Paris, I left behind everything I knew. I was so scared, I- I didn’t have any safety net. But then I met you, and… I felt like things would be okay. I was an ocean away from home, from my friends, from everyone and everything I loved, but you made me feel at home.

“I don’t- I don’t know about normal, but you helped me find the life I want, too. This life. You stuck by me when I reacted… really immaturely and shut you out for so long. You stuck by me when I turned my back on all this and fought as Ladybug again- don’t… don’t say anything about that. Please.” Marinette takes a big shaky breath as Jon obediently shuts his mouth. That… that is a wound healed by their promise, but a wound nonetheless. Jon can only hope to continue nurturing it as they have been, rather than picking at it and reopening the thing. “You helped me reconcile being the guardian with the life that I want. I… I never thought I could do both. It never even occurred to me. If you hadn’t been here, I would… I would definitely have given Chat the guardianship and forgotten everything. Eventually, at least. In that sense… I think you did save my life.”

Jon looks over at her, at the constellations in her freckles, barely visible in the starlight, at the burn of the sun in her eyes, the gentle promise ring of the galaxy crossing her irises. Marinette worries her lip and ducks away. “So… this is my first Thanksgiving, but… the thing I’m most grateful for is you. Thank you for being a part of my life.”

Jon’s eyes water. He can’t help it. He knows he’s important to Marinette, just like she is to him, but to hear her spell it out so plainly casts a spell over his heart. It’s hard to breathe. All he can do is stare at her.

She looks up at him, too, and they share a small smile. A tiny, barely-there thing but one full of so much warmth and love that it’s unmistakable. She grabs his arm, leans on his shoulder, and they share that moment, sitting in the tree, gazing at the stars on the horizon, their touch like a hearth warming them from the onset of the chill of late November.

She looks up again; he can’t recall when she gets so close. She smells like the pies they baked last night, somehow, but also everything else. Like Thanksgiving, like gratitude, like her. He can feel her breath on his lips, lighter than the gentlest breeze. It takes him a moment to realize he’s leaning in, too.

That realization makes him jump. Marinette reels back, surprised, and they’re both sitting there, faces burning, not looking at each other.

Aw, hell. Jon beats himself up inside because he knows this is his fault. He doesn’t even know why he jumps. It just takes him by surprise. How stupid of him to react that way! To startle himself with something so… so… Especially because it’s not as if he doesn’t want it. He does! He wants to kiss her! Hell, I want to kiss her.

And when the hell did that happen?!

He needs a moment.

——-=——-

Tag List: @moonystars14 @pawsitivelymiraculous @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @buticaaba @bigpicklebananatree @lozzybowe @moonlightstar64 @amayakans @theatreandcomicfreak @toodaloo-kangaroo @too0bsessedformyowngood @justcourttee <3

#miraculous ladybug fanfiction #ml fanfiction #ml x dc #maribat #marijon #ehhtrtd

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fishfingersandjellybabies · 4 years

Text

(The Second) First Date - brood au

Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Jon Kent, Cassandra Cain, Conner Kent Pairing: superbat Summary: It’s a first date. Kinda. Maybe. Almost. A/N: Bruce has visited a few times between Whole and this. Dick, Jason and Tim are either doing some hero-ing or like, at jobs or something. I may write a part two about the date but not sure yet. Also shameless self-promo: money is tight! If you like what I do, or want to support me further, please check out this post to learn more about my Patreon, Ko-Fi, potential commissions and published stories! It’d mean literally everything. :)

Other Brood AU things.

Clark fixed his tie in the mirror, wondering if he was overdressing, or looked too…nerdy.

“So, I mean…” Damian hummed. Clark glanced at him in the mirror. He was flopped across Clark’s bed, staring at the ceiling. His cat was flopped across his chest, and Cassandra, who was lying against the pillows, had her feet dug under his back. “Did he call it a date?”

Clark snorted. “I mean…he didn’t say that word specifically, I guess.” He loosened the tie a little bit. “Why?”

“Well…I mean.” Damian repeated, but didn’t return his gaze in the mirror. “If he didn’t call it a date, then I don’t see why I can’t come.”

“…Damian.” Clark sighed, turning around. He glanced at Cassie. “Do you think this matches?”

Cassandra turned her head thoughtfully. “Hm…no. Too much.”

Clark nodded, and unknotted the tie.

“We talked about this, kiddo.” Clark returned his attention to Damian. “Bruce and I…just need to catch up.”

“So do we.” Damian pouted. “I mean…I haven’t seen him since I was a baby.”

“I know.” Clark swore. He glanced up when Cassandra lifted her hand, motioned for him to unbutton the top few buttons of his plaid shirt. “And you will. I promise, you’ll have full access to him.”

Damian looked up.

“Just…” Clark gave him a defeated grin. “Not today.”

Damian scoffed, and dropped his head.

“Like, okay.” Clark looked back to the mirror. “He didn’t ask me on a date, specifically. But he did ask me out. That’s the same thing isn’t it? The kids still call it that these days?”

“…I guess.”

“And besides. I just.” Clark sighed. “In case the conversations go…somewhere you kids shouldn’t hear.”

And Clark meant violence. He meant that they may start talking about Bruce’s traumas, the Court of Owls, the evil that kept them apart.

But sweet, innocent Damian took it to mean:

“I know about sex if that’s what you mean.” Damian informed him. “And I think Jason has condoms if you need them.”

Cassandra gasped a laugh and clapped a hand over her mouth. Clark felt the heat rising up his neck and across his cheeks.

“So, if that’s what you’re worried about then I think we’re fine.” Damian decided. “And that means I can come along.”

“No, Damian, it’s…” Clark laughed nervously himself. “Who talked to you about this?” He mumbled. He saw Cassandra shrug in the mirror. “Sorry, bud. Not this time. But soon. I promise.”

Damian huffed, hiding his face in Alfred’s fur.

“Well then if you two are going to bang then get a hotel room.” Damian murmured harshly. “Don’t come back here.”

“I am definitely having a talk with your older brothers…” Clark breathed. “Please don’t be too upset, kiddo.”

“Who said I’m upset?” Damian grumbled sarcastically. “…So what are you two planning to do?”

“Dinner, I think.” Clark said. “Maybe a walk before or after, through downtown. I don’t know. I don’t think we really planned anything.”

“Hm.” Damian responded. He peeked out over Alfred’s flank. “…Did you miss him a lot?”

“I did.” Clark returned softly. “Not as much as you though, I bet.”

“…Do you think you’ll get married this time around?” Damian asked. Clark blinked, and turned around.

“You didn’t get to…last time.” Cassandra agreed. “Maybe…maybe one of you propose today?”

“Ha! Not today.” Clark laughed. “But, I mean…never say never?”

Damian and Cassandra looked at each other.

“…Would you two…want us to get married?”

Cassandra nodded, and Damian shrugged.

“It’d make it easier for us, I suppose.” Damian explained. “Both dads under on roof. Everyone together.”

“What city?” Cassandra asked. “Bruce would…come here?”

“Well, maybe if we do propose to each other tonight, I’ll ask him.” Clark smiled with a wink. Then he leaned over, tickling Damian’s side, planting a kiss to his cheek as he squirmed. “Now, come on, I think I hear his car in Smallville.”

Bruce slowly pulled up the drive, glancing to the body sitting on the front steps.

It was Jon, his little elbows on his little knees and his little head in his little hands.

To anyone else, he’d just look like a bored little boy, but Bruce knew better. Knew that little boy was sitting on those old steps waiting specifically for him.

Jon sat up as the car came to a stop and the engine shut off, and stood as Bruce stepped out.

“Hey there.” Bruce smiled, taking off his sunglasses. He watched Jon take in his outfit – jeans, tshirt and leather jacket – and cross his arms.

“What are your incentives with my dad?” Jon demanded.

“My…” Bruce blinked. “Uh…what?”

Suddenly, the screen door behind Jon popped open, revealing Conner.

“Intentions, Jon.” Conner corrected with a laugh as he leaned against the doorframe. Jon looked back at him. “The word you meant is intentions.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jon turned back to Bruce. “What are your intentions with my dad?”

Conner shrugged apologetically behind him.

“Well, uh.” Bruce chuckled. “I’d like to give him a nice, relaxing evening.”

Jon narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“In appreciation.” Bruce offered. “For…for what he did for your brothers and sister, all these years. A night off, so to speak.”

Jon kept his suspicious gaze.

“Damian said it was a date.” Jon accused. “Is it a date?”

“Oh my god, Jon.” Conner cackled behind him. “Don’t be a brat, it’s none of your business.”

“Yeah-huh!” Jon shot back, twirling around. “Besides, Dad did this that one time someone came to pick Cassie up for a date, so who’s going to do it for him?!”

“I don’t know. Cassie, maybe?” Conner smirked. “Definitely not a nine-year-old, that’s for sure.”

“…Only if your father wishes it to be a date, I suppose.” Bruce tried to cut in. “I’m under no assumptions, Jon. I promise.”

Jon turned back and sighed. “Damian said it was a date for sure. When I asked him how he knew, he said he saw you two kissing in the kitchen that one time.”

Bruce felt his face warm. That first day, when they were all reunited. That moment they finally got alone.

Clearly not as alone as they thought.

“So. I just wanted to make sure.” Jon explained, almost haughty. “Be nice to my dad today. And every day.”

“I will.”

“Because he missed you a lot.” Jon reminded, like Bruce didn’t know. “And I…I just…”

Bruce waited, then encouraged, just a little. “It’s okay, Jon, you can tell me.”

Jon waited another moment, then glanced up, eyes a little misty, despite how brave he was trying to be. “…I just don’t want you to hurt him again.”

And of course – Bruce didn’t blame the kid. But oh boy, did that hurt. The fact itself, the fact that the children all knew.

The fact that the children – that this child, in particular – thought he might do it again.

“…Sorry.” Bruce glanced up to Conner, who had spoken. He looked embarrassed, a little, but also ashamed that he clearly agreed with his youngest brother. “He didn’t mean-”

“No, it’s alright.” Bruce smiled, though it probably came out awkward, a little broken. He crouched a little, to get on Jon’s level. “Thanks for taking such good care of your dad. I’m so glad you love him so much.”

“He’s the best.” Jon whispered sheepishly. “He’s the best dad in the whole world.”

“I know he is.” Bruce agreed. “And I promise you, Jon, I will do my very best to make sure he never gets hurt again, okay?”

Jon pursed his lips, and nodded.

But if Jon was going to say anything else, Conner cut him off before he could, by glancing back into the house. “Move, Jonno.”

Jon huffed in annoyance but did as he was told, jumping back up the steps to stand next to the door. Just as he came to a stop at Conner’s side, Clark appeared, followed like a mother duck by Damian and Cassandra.

Damian shoved past everyone immediately, stomping down the stairs and walking straight towards Bruce. Without a word, he wrapped his arms tightly around Bruce’s torso, burying his face in jacket.

“Hello, son.” Bruce murmured, ruffling Damian’s hair. “How you been?”

“Better.” Cassandra smiled. “Clark said he had to…” She trailed off, but pointed at the ground.

“I told him he couldn’t come with us this time.” Clark explained, trotting down the steps. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Perfectly fine.” Bruce grinned. “Gave me a lovely chance to catch up with Jon and Conner.”

Clark glanced back, to the still-pouting Jon and the snickering Conner whispering to Cassandra. “…Hopefully Jon didn’t say anything too…bad.”

“Only minor threatening. No big deal.” Bruce winked. “Just looking out for his pop.”

“Oh, jeez.” Clark ran his palm over his forehead, and adjusted his glasses. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s sweet.” Bruce glanced down at his own youngest, who still hadn’t let go. “…Will you feel better if I promise to stick around after?” Damian looked up at him. “I plan on staying until tomorrow, but can always extend my visit if you want me to.”

“…I guess.” Damian conceded with a long-suffering sigh. Bruce smiled as Damian finally let go, but took his face in his hands anyway, and kissed the boy on the forehead. When Bruce released him, Damian shyly ran back up the porch, standing next to Jon. They looked almost like twins, with their matching pouts and crossed arms.

“Don’t stay out too late.” Conner teased. “And text if you’re going to get a hotel or something instead of come home. You know, for…reasons…”

“Don’t even…” Clark spluttered. Flustered, he turned towards the passenger door of the car. “Bye, kids!”

Bruce laughed and waved, blowing a kiss to Cassandra as he ducked back into his car.

“I swear, they’re not normally like this.” Clark was already apologizing. “They are normally way politer and...just…”

Bruce kept laughing. “Well, I guess it’s not every day your dad – or your dad’s former boyfriend – comes back from the dead and asks your dad on a date, huh?”

“…You said the word ‘dad’ three times in on sentence.” Clark said instead. He fixed his glasses nervously.

“I did.” Bruce nodded, throwing the car in reverse and backing up. He straightened the wheel, glanced to the four still watching on the front porch, and put the car in drive. Then, he looked at Clark and smiled, holding out his hand. “You ready?”

And Clark, nervous, excited, and butterflies cage-fighting in his gut, smiled back and interlaced their fingers. It felt so natural, and like the last tens years where he missed the sensation never happened.

“Always.”

#superbat #clark kent #bruce wayne #Damian Wayne #jon kent #cassandra cain #conner kent #brood au

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