An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Status: Finished
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Additional Tags: Damian Al Ghul, Super Lord Jonathan Kent, Versatile Jonathan Samuel Kent, Open Relationships, Rape Recovery, Evil Superman, Not Beta Read, Hurt/Comfort, specific triggering topics and warnings are in chapter notes, please read carefully before proceeding.
Summary: Damian brought in the son of his enemy after witnessing the extended abuse he had gone through. The longer they were together, the more attached they became as Jon stumbled through it all with a skewed view of love.
So a friend give me this prompt and urged me to write this. Started as a drabble then some how ends in a short fic.
Might post the whole thing on AO3 once finished. It’s a pure fluff crack fic. If I can write romance comedy in Superlords AU I can do anything.
+Based on JLU animation setting. I refuse to acknowledge the comic sequel in JL beyond
Enjoy!
+++
“I need you to marry me.”
By this, the Kryptonian nearly toppled and fell from where he was floating in midair, if that was something could be done.
“What?!” he squeaked, absolutely dumbfounded.
“Well, not marry me, to be exact,” the Demon’s Head waved a hand in a very much dismissive way, as if they were just talking about weather, “An engagement, more like it.”
Gawking, the young lord Jon-El, son of the supreme Lord Superman, watched his best friend, former mentor and the current leader of League of Assassins, Damian al Ghul, with sheer amount of disbelief.
He had known there was something in Damian’s mind the second he dropped by in the courtyard of Narda Parbat base, as his friend had not even complained when being pulled into a suffocatingly tight embrace, rather been eyeing him with a wistful silence - which was why Jon had offered a short flight, and ended it by stopping at their favorite spot on the mountainside, for a sparring session or whatever Damian felt like.
He had not expect that ‘something’ to be this, however.
“Where did that even come from?” Jon furrowed incredulously, hovering closer to the older male.
Damian’s lips pressed into a thin line, the corners of his mouth slightly tilted down in dismay. Jon noticed that he was putting on his I-have-a-favor-to-ask-but-I’m-the-Demon’s-Head-so-I-only-order-people-around face.“Mother has been pestering me with the topic of marriage and suitable consorts, again, lately.”
Jon blinked. Sometimes he really couldn’t understand what was with Talia’s temporary obsession about her son’s non-exist marital status, considering herself had never married, at least not formally, but - “Oh, okay, it’s not something hard to solve though. I can just —”
“You’re not going to kill another daughter or son of some significant political figure just because I said ‘they annoyed me so’, or lobotomize them,” Damian cut off curtly, voice cold and harsh, “Mother was quite upset the last time you’ve done this. We’ve spent months to neutralize the consequences, and I don’t think your father appreciated it very much either.”
“Dad doesn’t appreciate a lot of things.”
Damian sighed, ignoring his quip. “And you’re not going to kill mother,” he paused, before adding another warning, “As well as your father. We’ve been over this before.”
Jon deflated, then pouted like spoiled child. “Fine. It’s not like I hate aunt Tal, you know, just the option’s open at anytime.”
“Yes, Jon, I have no doubts that you’d do anything for me,” said Damian dryly, arm crossed, with barely a nick of sarcasm, “Which is why pretending to be my betrothal should at least be one of them.”
It was true, and they both knew it by hearts. The young Kryptonian would do literally everything and anything in his power, or die tried beyond his power to fulfill what Damian al Ghul had wished for; whether it was a country, the world, or stars and moon – he would bring them all down and offered before the Demon’s Head’s throne, with simply a word rolling off the other man’s tongue.
But it did not mean he would waste a chance to haggle.
“Um, yep. I just can’t figure out how and when did I come into the scheme.”
Damian’s shoulder tensed, yet eased down within seconds once more, and begrudgingly he started, “Well, in hope of ending this kind of conversations once and for all, I’ve may or may not told mother that I’m already betrothed to someone on my own behalf.”
Dead silence suddenly hanged down between the two of them, until Jon spoke softly, in the end.
“Dami, it hurt me to say this, but sometimes you’re really stupid,” he said in the most earnest and genuine voice.
The Demon’s Head resumed talking without a comment, only tapped one finger on the hilt of the Kryptonite dagger, sheathed at the side of his belt, displaying a clear attitude. “And I would like to make sure we’re both aware of the... detailed information about this relationship, since we’ll finally inform mother our engagement at dinner tonight, and she might have the curiosity for further inquiries.”
“Right. Sure, even though I still haven’t agreed on a single part here, but go on.” Jon chirped in a deliberately sickening sweet tone.
This earned him a threatening glare, which Jon blew out a raspberry in return, then floated even higher. Damian could not actually be angry with him when nothing had happened, moreover, when he was the one who had a favor to ask. True to the belief, his sole response was a familiar tutting sound, and the emerald eyes moved away to gaze at the mountains afar. After another minute of peaceful quietness, Damian eventually spoke and dropping the bombshell. “For your reference, we’ve been secretly engaged for several years by now.”
“Whoa, we have?”
Without batting an eye, Damian continued in an uncannily even and nonchalant tone. “To be more specific, we had confessed and exchanged our vows when you were nineteen. The year you paid a visit when I was in Europe, and we spent the summer together.”
“Oh Rao I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Jon muttered under his breath. Just then he stilled, eyes widened, head perked up, and a dawning realization struck like a lighting, “Wait, is that one time you almost fell off from the Eiffel Tower?”
“Yes, that one time you almost dropped me off from the Eiffel Tower,” Damian spat, “But also no, it should be later, in Greece.”
“Parthenon?”
“Parthenon.”
“Was it before or after the accident that we nearly set it on fire? You know, together, by mistake, and somehow my fault was not in the larger proportion there.”
At last, the unwavering mask of indifference was cracked by the recollection of that particular incident. Damian winced. He opened his mouth while in search of a comeback, or any evidence for correction in details. There was none, and the only option he left was grunting like an ill-tempered cat.
“After that, possibly,” he mumbled through gritted teeth.
“Must be quite romantic then, I can imagine,” said the young lord in a sing-song voice, beaming with satisfaction.
Damian huffed with a sneer inside. “Indeed, everything seems extremely romantic after being at each other’s throat in a literal manner for the past thirty minutes.”
“I didn’t start that. I was just messing around with you.”
“If by ‘messing around’ you mean as ‘practicing homicide’.”
“Well it’s not me who thought it was a great idea to—” he feigned a surprised yelp when being suddenly dragged down by his cape. Did Jon see that coming? Of course. Could he dodge it? No problem. He could even stay still like a solid concrete and start a tug-of-war in air, but then Damian’s embarrassment might turn into true enragement. Thus he chose to offer the cheekiest smile to those blazing green eyes, now on horizontal level with and an inch too close, “’right, sorry, please do continue.”
Those eyes scrutinized his face for a while longer, before Damian’s own expression softened. He loosened the grip, yet refrained from completely let go of the silky white fabric, still holding it gently between his fingers. Following the subtle cue, Jon set feet to the ground and straightened up a little, as though being anchored by the hand that pulled him down.
“That makes the anniversary of our engagement on the 23rd of July,” and so Damian returned to the previous topic while thoroughly disregarding the small interlude, “Which is why we generally spent summer together since then.”
“Is it? Wait, we’re not actually engaged in the past few years, right? Are we?” Damian just stared at him, unimpressed by the display of idiocy.
“I assure you, we aren’t,” he then released the cape, “However, half a truth often makes up a great lie, and it works perfectly in this case.”
“And I thought we pretty much spent every summer together.”
“We didn’t. Not since you went back with your father when you were twelve,” Jon grimaced at that reminder, “Truthfully, I never know what’s your excuse whenever you disappeared for at least a whole month.”
The Kryptonian snorted.
“Dad doesn’t really care about what I’m doing as long as I’m not wrecking havoc to worsen his migranine. That is, since the whole Elite incident years ago,” he then paused for a few hesitant seconds. Jon-El slightly tilted head to met with the other’s eyes, as he was levitating on tip-toes in subconscious once again, “I have no quarrel with pretending to be your ‘betrothal’ or whatever, D, though clearly it’s one of your dumbest idea. But hey! Sounds fun! And the story totally sells, on some levels. Just you know nothing’s gonna be merely ‘fake boyfriend’ trope when it comes to our families, right?”
“Might as well,” Damian hummed, and he dared to start the explanation shamelessly under his friend’s now confused gaze, “It’s obvious that the Justice Lords are reconsidering their current partnership with the League and Leviathan. I doubt mother is too happy about some ‘trivial disagreements’ in recent as well, and I don’t always see eye to eye with people on either side.”
Jon stared at him. Damian stared back. The pregnant silence stretched longer this time, until Jon gasped loudly, eyes wide with disbelief. He dashed so high up into the air before dived down again in an instant.
Damian cursed in Arabic while busily trying to dust off the snow now covering his hair and robe, caused by the rapid gush of wind. Jon paid him no mind.
“Wow. Okay. Hold on. I can’t believe you’ve just talked me into a political marriage,” he half-shrieked, half-spluttered into the other’s ears, “Is this actually your mom’s idea? Am I in the ‘suitable consorts’ list?! Didn’t aunt Tal remark on how I’m never going to be a ‘passable husband material’ last month when I told that story about Beacon?”
“I’m pretty sure she still holds the same opinion,” Damian grumbled with a wince on his face. He pushed him away for a little, in sake of the eardrums, “Look, it’s not like the wedding will happen anytime soon. We’re just going to make the contract part official.”
“Ugh,” Jon pulled a face, “Why? Why’re you doing this to me? You know how much I hate those political stuff and formal occasions, and I hate to start anything that’s closer to a serious conversation with dad or the other lords. Why? Did I do something wrong? Are you still mad about that research station I had accidentally blown off? Or is it because I refused to help you sneak into the Fortress last time? You know you’ve already been there plenty of times!”
A muscle jumped on the Demon’s jaw when a certain event was mentioned, yet the only reaction he let out in the end was a sigh. “I’m still mad about that research station you had accidentally blown off, but that’s not the reason.”
“And it’s not mother’s idea, either. To be honest, I don’t think she’ll be rejoiced to hear this arrangement. Doubtlessly she has other plans in mind,” reluctant as he was, seeing Jon was still watching him skeptically, Damian could only supplied with another confession, “If that makes you feel better, I didn’t consider much when the ‘secretly bethrothed’ thing blurted out. I’m merely turning an impulsive mistake into a tactical strategy.”
“And you think your mom’s gonna agree with this? Since now it’s clear that I’m not an optional son-in-law in her ‘mother’s choice’ edition.”
“That is, exactly the cause behind our romantic backstory. I know this sounds unreal, but given the past record of herself, mother actually has a soft spot when it comes to the heart’s cause,” for a second, Damian looked like he wanted to avert his gaze to elsewhere and took aback everything had happened. He continued nonetheless, “I have to admit, considering the talk of marriage will eventually come up sooner or later, it’s much better to know that we’re in this together.”
The young lord did not respond. He remained completely still, the tip of his shoes left shallow grazes on the snow since he was hovering a few inches apart from the ground. The only sound he made was the sound of the pale white cape billowing in wind.
Jon-El snapped out from whatever outer body experience he was going through when Damian gently laid a hand on to his shoulder. He looked down at the hand, then back to Damian’s face, back upon at the hand on his shoulder again, and abruptly retreated a huge step back. The sky blue eyes flared a tint of red for a fleeting moment, as he sent Damian a menacing look right before he took lift with a sonic boom. It was a “just-watch-me-leave-you-here-and-try-to find-a-way-down-on-your-own” look, which the al Ghul was entirely capable of, since he was nine. However, Damian knew better than wasting energy unnessarily on a self-solved problem.
He yawned, counting seconds in mind while watching the shadowcasts of cloud flowing through the rugged silhouette of the mountains.
It took around two minutes and fourty-seven seconds for that monotone and crimson blur to reappear in the edge of his sight. Jon soared back and landed in front of him, raven black hair in a wind-blown state, with a light frown on his face, and the rest was unreadable. He puffed, finally, shoulder slumped in compromise.
“Alright. Fine. But you better give me a very nice ring.”
“That can be arranged.” Damian smiled smugly, which replied by another eye-rolling.
“Dad’s gonna be so pissed, and aunt Kara too. Kon’ll probably find this overly hilarious,” Jon murmured. Unsurprisingly, that grumpy pout gradually dissipated through the muttering, instead a wicked grin starting to spread on his face, “Oh such delight, I can’t wait for this month’s family dinner. If I’m going to suffer, I’d better turn this into everyone else’s problem.”
“You’re a menace.” Damian scoffed, yet the fondness overweighted mockery in it.
Without a warning, Jon lunged forward, two steel-strong arms choked the other in a too tight hug. Damian’s hands almost instinctly flied to the hilt of the sword, only Jon had slackened the clutch too quick. He twirled his position to spoon Damian from behind, still floating aloft, and rest his chin on the center of the hair whorl. Damian growled, but did not try any effort to push him off.
“Still can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Jon complained aloud, “You owed me an Apokolips-scaled favor now, which means you’re forbid to get mad at me from now on.”
“I think that’s still in need for further negotiation,” Damian commented in a deadpan tone.
“Have you already prepared a prenuptial agreement?”
“Hmm.”
“What kind of answer is that?” Jon pinched his friend and soon-to-be betrothal on cheek (without really using any strength, of course). Damian grunted and let it be, but caught his wrist at the second attempt.
“I’m afraid your halcyon days are over, Lord Jon-El. Welcome to my life and put responsibility into your dictionary,” mocked by the Demon’s Head.
To this, Jon sighed exasperately and tightened his hold before Damian’s chest, then nuzzled even closer. Both of them were well past the point to be bothered by this cold, but warmth was always welcomed.
“Hate you,” said Jon, voice a little too cheerul.
“Hate you more,” replied Damian, a barely contained laugh in tone.
-END/TBC-
Other background settings on this AU:
So Superman and Lois are still Jon’s biological parents in this setting, but only on genetic level. Lord! Superman had tried everything in hope to make Lois stay with him back then, so he used Kryptonian technology to create a child from his lab, using his and modified Lois’ gene (probably from blood samples or sth.) and take the baby to meet Lois.
My impression to Lois is that she would likely to wait for a chanse to strike back rather than commit suicide when there’s no way out. She then took care of Jon in those imprisoned years, until Jon fell gravely ill due to his unstable DNA and Lord Superman took him to somewhere else for treatment, and Lois had finally escaped in that period of time.
After Lois’ escapement, among other situations, Kal-El was busy with his work and didn’t have the will to raise the child, therefore send him to LoA through Lord Batman’s introduction. Jon was 5-6 yro back then, he and Damian were still 3 yrs apart in this AU.
Talia had informed Batman about their child a lot ealier in this setting, and Damian was basically always raised in the League. Jon went back with his father reluctantly when he was 12. Their relationship was strange and distant rather than tensed. Kal-El sort of viewed this child as the final reminiscence of Lois, while Jon just, honestly didn’t care(...) On the other hand, although Lord Superman might have not too many moral compass, he valued his rules, but Jon’s just pure chaotic, didn’t really care abt anything whatsoever unless it involved Damian.
Lois was now in an anti-Lords organisation. Jon called her Ms. Lane and paid visit to chat occassionally, and constantly mocking his father’s pathetic love life.
Ra’s died or couldn’t use pit to regenerate anymore at somepoint, then Damian became the Demon’s Head.
