šāļøā"This Wasn't in the Protocol, Kent" (A not-so-typical adventure starring Jon, Damian⦠and kryptonite with side effects)
[story collection] <-more stories here
It was a quiet afternoon in the Batcave. Damian sat on one of the lab benches, going over the results of a ballistic autopsy while Alfred passed a tray of tea. Everything in order. Everything calm.
And then Jon walked in.
"Damiaaaan!" he sang, smiling wider than his entire face.
Damian barely looked up.
"What do you want, farmboy?"
"Nothing⦠justā¦" Jon launched himself at Damian with overwhelming force and hugged him like an oversized ragdoll. "You're sooo soft!!"
Damian fell backwards to the floor, crushed beneath the warm, muscled weight of his teenage Kryptonian friend. He squirmedābut Jon was spooning him. In the Batcave. With Alfred watching. The horror.
"KENT, HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!" he growled, trying to wriggle free. "GET OFF ME RIGHT NOW!"
"Nuh-uhā¦" Jon mumbled dreamily, burying his face in Damianās neck. "You smell like mint and repressed violence⦠it brings me peace."
Damian froze. The level of humiliation was unspeakable.
"You smell like solar barn, you idiot!"
From the stairs, Alfred cleared his throat politely.
"Might I presume this has something to do with the pink kryptonite fragment I found glowing on the hangar floor, Master Kent?"
Damianās eyes shot open. He craned his neck just enough to spot a tiny sliver of pink kryptonite stuck to Jonās cape, right behind his ear.
"DAMN IT!" Damian yelled. "WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?!"
"Found it in the hangar⦠and thenā¦" Jon purred against his chest, "I saw you⦠and it was like⦠boom. Look at that perfect little psycho face! And then I hugged you. So hard. And now I donāt wanna let goooo..."
"I AM NOT A STUFFED ANIMAL, KENT! GET OFF ME! YOU'RE LIKE A HORNED-UP SAINT BERNARD!"
Jon didnāt move. He just nuzzled his cheek against Damianās and whispered:
"You and me⦠we should live on a farm. You, me, Titus⦠and a thousand goats. And chickens. And bees. Andā"
"IāM GOING TO TAKE YOU APART WITH MY BARE HANDS."
Eventually, Alfred calmly approached with lead-lined gloves, gently removed the pink stone from Jonās suit, and within three seconds, Jonās eyes refocused.
"...What? Why am I on the floor? Why am I hugging you?"
Damian shoved him away like he was radioactive.
"STAY AWAY FROM ME, YOU SUPER-POWERED FARM ANIMAL!"
Jon stood up, rubbing the back of his head, still puzzled. Alfred had already sealed the kryptonite fragment in a lead container.
"I believe it was the pink kryptonite, Master Kent. Side effects: disinhibited physical affection and temporarily altered orientation."
Damian wiped his neck with a handkerchief.
"And annihilated dignity."
Jon smiled that sunshine-of-summer smile of his.
"Well, now I know youāre huggable."
Damian growled.
"Say that again and youāll wake up blindfolded in a Tibetan monastery filled with murder cats."
He would never admit it butā¦
ā¦that night, Damian sat in silence, gently petting Titus, rememberingājust faintlyāthe warmth of the most ridiculous hug in the world. Maybe. Just maybe. It wasnāt so bad.
Reblogs are more pink kryptonite around Jon conveniently when Damian is around.
Likes mean more hugs for Damian's mental health.
Your feedback fuels Alfred's drive to continue being the best in every way.
āš If this story made you smile (or snort-laugh), you can buy me a coffee to support more chaotic and absurdly soft content like this:
Become a supporter of luis michael today!
Thanks for reading šāØ

















