Work Text:
Jon felt like he was walking on air after his little retreat with Damian. They had taken every opportunity to do things that neither one of them would normally allow. Damian had cooked for him (not always successfully, but what could be expected from a kid who relied on a butler for so much?), they’d showered together, and they’d had sex as often as Damian could handle.
It felt perfect.
There was one thing, though, that had caught Jon’s attention during their time together…
Damian had taken to calling him “Beloved.”
The way that Damian said it at first had felt stiff to Jon; like it was unnatural and awkward. But the more that he used the term, the more natural that it felt. In fact, Damian’s voice tended to take on an almost honeyed tone whenever he would say it. In no time at all, Jon felt like he’d been conditioned to react to the title.
“Don’t worry, beloved. You made us a suitable bed. I can make us a suitable breakfast.”
“Wonderful as this is, beloved, could you pass the soap? I’d like to actually come out of the shower feeling cleaner than I entered.”
“Ah! Y-yes! There, beloved! Just…just like that! Yes! My beloved! Jon! Jon!”
When it was time for Damian to head back to Gotham, Jon felt like he was losing something important. They lingered at the entryway a little too long, Jon shamelessly draping himself over his boyfriend as they tried to find the strength to leave.
“Beloved?”
Jon straightened up immediately. “Yeah?”
“I will not forget this time we have spent together. If I hear that your eyes wander elsewhere, I will teach you a lesson. Do you understand?”
Jon smiled. "I wouldn’t dream of it." He pulled Damian into a long kiss and they nearly forgot their situation before Damian pushed against him.
“It is time, beloved.”
Jon nodded and hoisted Damian into his arms, flying him at a leisurely pace back to Gotham. “I’ve been meaning to ask,” he finally ventured to address as the rooftop of Wayne Tower came into view, “why do you call me ‘beloved’?”
Damian twitched just barely enough for Jon to notice. “I…must have picked the habit up from somewhere. I mean, are you not my beloved? Would you prefer if I didn’t address you by—”
“No, that’s not what I meant! It’s just…it’s different. It’s very unique.”
“Yeah…unique…”
“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted you to know. I like it.”
Damian clicked his tongue and Jon nuzzled his cheek lovingly as they approached the Manor. “Last stop, D.” He landed softly on the rooftop and let Damian down. “Until next time? He leaned in for a kiss only to get a hand in his face.
“Not here. Father has this entire place monitored. This is something that I would like to keep between just us for now.”
Jon frowned. “Just us and Jason, you mean?”
Damian bristled. “We have been over this.”
Jon put his hands up and floated back a ways. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Take care of yourself, Damian.”
“You do the same, Kent.”
Bruce had noticed that, since Damian’s last supposed retreat to the Titans-Tower, his whole demeanor had shifted in a palpable way. It wasn’t concerning so much as it was confusing. The usually broody young man was often smiling to himself, whistling about the halls, muttering cheerfully to his pets.
Bruce felt like the victims in Jaws during the beginning of the famous theme; something was coming, he just couldn’t put his finger on what.
Alfred told him to dismiss his fears. “The young master is simply happy. This should be reason to celebrate. Of course, addressing it might make him choose to stop showing it and result in him taking some sort of entirely unnecessary actions to avoid showing such emotions as joy in the future, so just let him be.”
And Bruce really would like to let it be, but the little nagging thought in the back of his head makes him keep a close eye on Damian for some sort of inevitable tell that would piece together the situation.
When that moment came, it shook Bruce to his core.
“Hey. I’m sorry, did you say United Planetary…what? That’s…Only you could pull something like that off, beloved.”
Beloved.
Beloved.
Beloved.
Bruce dropped the mug of coffee that he was holding and it shattered on the kitchen floor. Damian flinched, realizing his mistake, and spoke quickly into his phone.
“O-oh no. Got to go.” He hung up without any further explanation and stared at his father fearfully. “I…uh…I can explain.”
Bruce hadn’t noticed before how much Damian took after his mother. The color of his eyes, the angle of his cheek bones, the way that he spoke…
“You…You’re too young to…Damian, you can’t just ignore consent in favor of desire…”
Damian’s face turned beet red. “You…You’re not supposed to be talking to Todd! Huh-huh-huh-how dare he even t-t-tell you such things!”
“What?”
Damian felt hot tears in his eyes again and dug his nails into his palms to keep himself from letting them spill over. “I am old enough to…to know what I want.”
Bruce couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He grabbed Damian by the shoulders and shook him, trying to get the severity of the situation across to his son. “You can’t just take what you want! Consent is something given, not taken! Damnit, I thought you knew better!”
“I am not some little charity case that you can just shape in your image! I am old enough to decide these things for myself! What does it matter who I decide to have them with?”
Bruce could hardly breathe. “I can’t believe you. How could you?” His voice rose into a growl as he towered over his son.
“Master Bruce!” Alfred’s sudden presence in the kitchen made Bruce freeze. He hadn’t even realized what he was doing; his right hand was pulled back, ready to strike, and Damian stood his ground, face turned up, ready to take the blow without giving an inch.
“Al…Alfred…I…”
Damian clicked his tongue but rubbed his eyes. “You’re such a hypocrite, Father.”
“N-no. I wouldn’t have—”
“Preaching of equality and justice only to turn on your own blood for something as petty as your own phobias!”
“What you did is wrong, Damian! You should see that!”
“No! I refuse! Nothing that Jon and I did was wrong!”
Bruce was taken aback. “Jon? Jonathan Kent? Good lord, you threw yourself at Jonathan Kent?”
“Master Bruce, that is enough!" Alfred put himself between Bruce and Damian, stepping right over the broken mug. “I believe there is a misunderstanding here. I implore you two to stop making assumptions, sit down, and talk this out!”
Unable to argue with Alfred, Bruce and Damian found themselves at opposite ends of the smallest dining table in the Manor with Alfred serving them each a cup of tea to calm things down.
“I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” Damian said first, still looking like he might break down at any moment. “I didn’t think you’d react like this.”
“Why wouldn’t I react like this?” Bruce said a little too loudly, earning a glare from his butler. He took a deep breath and started again. “Let’s start over. Jonathan Kent…What did you do to him?”
Damian looked astounded. “I thought you spoke with Todd?”
Bruce didn’t like the sound of that. “Last time I spoke to Jason it was to confirm your suspicions about Leviathan’s true identity. What are you referring to?”
“I…I…You didn’t…He didn’t tell you about, um, my last visit to the Iceberg Lounge?”
Bruce was worried all over again. “That establishment is NO place for a Wayne. Cobblepot or no, it is a bar—which you’re too young to go to anyways—and it is run by criminals who’d just as quickly shoot you as they would serve you a drink.”
“Of course I know…wait, but Jason announced his connection to our family publicly, so it is a place for at least one Wayne-related person to—”
“What were you doing there?”
Damian stiffened. “I…I needed…I needed advice.”
“Jason is a wanted criminal,” Bruce growled. “There is no advice he could provide that is worth your time.”
“Honestly, Master Bruce, you don’t believe that,” Alfred interjected. “Master Damian, please, what sort of advice did you seek from Master Jason?”
Damian placed his hands on his teacup and fidgeted in his seat. “I spoke to Todd because I didn’t want to deal with this exact situation.”
Bruce stood up quickly and slammed his hands on the table. “You mean you didn’t want to face judgment for your crimes?”
Damian shook and Alfred cleared his throat again. “Master Bruce, contain yourself. You are jumping to conclusions.”
“Juh-Juh-Jon came to me first,” Damian said, unable to control his shaking. “H-he…He’s not as young as he was buh-buh-beefff…” Damian closed his eyes tightly, trying to steady himself. Bruce couldn’t recall ever hearing his son stutter like this, “before…He’s…older. He dealt with certain…situations…”
“So you thought it was right to take advantage of him?” Bruce asked outright.
Damian’s eyes widened, horrified. “No…Father, how could you even think that I would do such a thing?”
That question hit Bruce like a freight train. “But you…you said—”
“I said something that suggested I had taken advantage of my beloved?”
Bruce winced.
“Oh dear. Master Damian, I see exactly what has caused this—”
“I jumped to conclusions,” Bruce said quickly, sitting back down. “Jonathan is…older, you say?”
Damian looked back and forth between Alfred and his father, trying to grasp what was going on, before continuing. “Kent…Jon…He came to me and…I mean, if anyone should be questioned about first earning consent it should be him,” Bruce’s hands balled into fists on the table, “but that’s beside the point. He told me that he…I mean…He told me what he felt for…me…And we tried to, um…” Damian couldn’t look at anyone in that moment. “Father, I don’t understand. You are heterosexual. I can see that as well as anyone else. But I didn’t think that you would be so against—”
“No. God no, Damian, that’s not what I…” Bruce sighed deeply, finally allowing some of his tension to subside. “This was a misunderstanding on my part.”
“Yes, Master Damian. You see, your mother—”
“Not now, Alfred,” Bruce said, cutting Alfred off. “I…I can see where I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”
“For what, exactly?” Damian wondered. “For nearly assaulting your own son over his sexual preference?”
Bruce began to understand the severity of his reaction to one single word. How could he allow himself to be so triggered? Damian had proven time and time again that he was more than just the successful clone of Talia’s demented experiments, and now he felt that Bruce was upset with him for being gay?
“I thought that you were forcing your partner to do things without their consent,” Bruce tried to explain, skirting around his own perceptions. “I never should have thought that.”
Damian clicked his tongue, some of his confidence finally returning. “What sort of monster do you take me for?”
Again, Bruce couldn’t help but notice how much he looked like his mother.
“I can’t apologize enough for my actions, but that aside, I think that perhaps we should discuss this. You and Jonathan are young. There can be certain…urges…that you don’t need to feel rushed to—”
“Save it. I already spoke with Todd. He was challenging enough to receive approval from. I do not wish to discuss the matter with you. We are careful. Preparations have been made to allow both of us to be comfortable. Condoms are used. Consent is mutual. What more do you need to know?”
“You’re young. He’s young.”
“He’s seventeen.”
Bruce made a mental note to call the Kents. “Okay, then he’s not young enough to allow you to—”
“Just stop, Father. We both consent. We are happy. Much as I hate to admit it, I am glad that I spoke with Todd on the matter. Honestly, I’m annoyed to be having this conversation with you when I went to Todd so that I could circumvent this nonsense. But now it’s in the open, so I suppose it can’t be helped.” Damian took a deep breath and straightened up. “Jonathan and I are in love. That is all that you need know. I will not ask your permission to feel what I feel just as he should not face your judgment. Now, if you don’t mind, your jumping-to-conclusions interrupted a very important phone call that I would like to get back to.” Damian downed the rest of his tea, ignoring the heat sliding down his throat, and dismissed himself.
Alfred came around to Bruce, pouring a little more tea into his cup. “He would have understood, you know.”
Bruce sighed. “I thought he was…Alfred, how could I just assume that he was doing what his mother—”
“No one is excusing Ms. Al Ghul’s actions, but Master Damian has proven to you that he is better than her on numerous occasions. He cannot help that the majority of his young life was spent with her and her horrible family’s teachings. But it cannot surprise you every time he shows some minute habit that he has picked up from her.”
Alfred was so right that Bruce felt sick.
“He went to Jason,” Bruce muttered.
“Yes, well Master Richard and Master Tim aren’t exactly available at present to discuss such things with him so—”
“Jason gave my son better advice than I could have hoped to offer…then he tried to kill us.”
“Nonsense! Master Jason took no lethal actions against you when you went on your wild goose chase. He simply defended himself from you and the small army that you brought to deal with him.”
Bruce nodded. “Damian’s growing up faster than I can keep up with…Perhaps Jason wouldn’t be a completely unwelcome presence in his life.”
Alfred scoffed. “Master Jason may have helped, but we both know that after the Leviathan stunt you two pulled, it will be a while before he bothers to reach out again. You should feel grateful that he hasn’t tried anything drastic since.”