Chapter Text
Cluck-cluck.
“Yeah, yeah, honey, I know.” Jon sighed as he cleaned the chicken coop with a rake, cautiously sweeping away the grime, dirt, and poop that had gathered over the week. His overalls were stained with dirt, sweat, and whatever liquid that had congregated over time working at the family farm.
As he finished raking, he let out a small grunt as he knelt on the soil. Gently, he grabbed a handful of the scrap before carrying it out to the composting bin. Again, he walked himself back and repeated the process until the task was completed.
Jon smiled as he thought back to when he was younger and how he would sneakily use his powers to finish his tasks. His mom would always somehow find out, though, even though Jon believed he was always so careful about hiding it.
I reckon your mother will be madder than a wet hen, if you keep doin’ that, Jon. His dad’s reprimanding voice thudded in his head as he turned the knob on the water hose on.
He didn’t get to make many memories working on the farm, he thought bitterly, so he cherished the few that he had.
Cluck!
“Don’ worry, I’m almost done, okay?” Jon spoke in a caring tone towards the hens, he really loved these animals. The chickens were never caged, and the Kent’s made sure to give more than ample of enough room for them to roam. The coop was primarily there for egg laying season.
Even then, the chickens were free to roam whenever they pleased. There was a beauty in developing a relationship with them, noticing their patterns and understanding their needs without the bridge of a common language.
Cluck-cluck!
“You’ll get your breakfast soon, now hush up!” He was thinking too much, it was almost breakfast time for the chicks, and he knew they would get rowdy without being fed on time. He was running late, ironic for a guy with superpowers.
“Mama doesn’t want me to use my super-speed, but if I could, you woulda had your dinner already, ain’t that right, honey?” Jon conversed loudly with the hens as he sprayed their coop with water.
Must feel refreshing for the coop, his Dad would say. His dad was a sap like that, had enough room in his heart to care for everything and anything.
Jon stopped spraying, and took a glance at the coop. Little droplets of water dripped from the wooden panels, the metal dividers glistened and the soil drank up the water. In any case, the coop did look refreshed.
Rao, I’m thinkin’ just like my Papa, now.
The coop needed to air dry for a bit before he could start laying down the new bedding. Jon was itching to place the hay down and make the home feel cozy and warm for the chickens, but alas, he had to wait-and not carefully use his breath to gently blow the water dry.
Jon jogged over to the water knob and turned it off. Next up, feeding time. A smile formed on his face as he looked out onto the humble acre of land the chickens roamed. He took a deep inhale in and yelled-
“Who’s ready for breakfast?!”
Cluck-cluck-cluck-cluck!
Jon hoisted the bag of chicken feed over his shoulder and attentively threw the pellets by the handful across the sectioned off area designated for the chickens. It was around 7 am now, just about time for mom and dad to finish cooking breakfast.
His own stomach began to grumble at the mere thought of food being cooked, the chickens pecking ferociously at the pellets didn’t help satiate his hunger.
Again, Jon recalled when he was younger and was complaining to his dad about cleaning the coop so early in the morning. He wailed and would tell his Dad, “Can’t we do this later?”
And his Dad would say, “Howsa’bout you sleep in a wet room at night, now how does that sound?”
The coop needed the sun to air dry so the chickens could sleep in a warm, dry bed at night. Young Jon was too impatient to care back then, now though, as he was forced to learn just how important time was, he didn’t mind slowing down so much.
Clean coop and feed the chickens, completed.
Next up, the cows.
The first time that his Dad let him milk a cow, Jon remembered squealing in excitement. He had some vague idea of how it worked-but he was not aware that his Dad would do it so early in the morning. A lesson he grew to understand living on a farm, you do everything early.
“But it’s like so early, Papa! The cows are still sleepin’.”
Jon snorted as he recalled how his dad laughed at his naivety, “We gotta get the overnight milk, son!” He yelled from the kitchen floor.
“What the hay is overnight milk…” Jon yawned as he spoke, wiping the crust on his eyes.
Clark was already by the front door, putting on his rusted, brown boots worn and torn with years of labor. His eyes shined with a light of excitement, masking the aged and sullen look of his eyebags.
Jon caught the jacket his dad had thrown for him to catch by the door, falling into step with his dad. Jon listens, as well as an 11 year old can, as his Dad explains to him that we need to retrieve the milk, or else the cows would be in pain. It was their duty to take care of them.
Jon was 21 now, he was no longer that little boy that could get away with complaining.
He hopped on his farm bike and drove to the cow pasture. The Kent farm housed more than a handful of cows, but never more than they could take care of. Just like the chickens, the cows were free roam. The biggest portion of the farm belonged to the cow’s pasture, a decent size of about 12 acres of soil dedicated as a grazing and lounging area for the cattle.
Jon whistled as he drove nearer to his destination, he smiled as he saw a few of the cows turn their heads to acknowledge him. He boyishly jumped out of the bike and jogged over to the wooden fence.
“Mornin’ baby bell.” Jon cooed as he greeted the cows. A few moo’d in response.
Jon hummed a random tune as he hastily put on the closest pair of milking gloves he could find. They were his Pa’s pink and green polka dotted gloves that his Ma picked out as a birthday present.
Cows. Green.
Damian has a cow and has green eyes.
Damian.
“Rao, have mercy.” He sighed, leaning against the cow he was about to milk.
“Moo.”
The two of them had drifted apart, even when they tried replicating their youthful friendship after he had returned. It just felt so different. Neither of them could pretend any longer, so they stopped seeing each other as much, stopped reaching out like they used to. And, they just let each other be.
Weeks turned into months, and before he even realized, four years had gone by since he had come back at 17. Damian had found his friends, and Jon had found his. It shouldn’t feel so complicated, but it was, because it was Damian.
Jon shook his head as he knelt next to the cow, “Can’t let myself think about it now, can I, baby bell?” There’s nothing to think about, if one of them needed the other, they would be there. That’s the extent of how their relationship went, other than that-they let each other be.
After he was done milking the cows, he pecked each one on the head as a way of showing thanks in kindness for their milk.
Get the overnight milk, completed.
Across the farm, he heard his Mom call out for him, “Jon, breakfast is ready! Come eat with us, honey!”
There are a few times where his parents allow him to use his powers while working on the farm. These instances include an alien invasion, a robotic take over, someone forgetting to take the food out of the oven, and perhaps Jon’s favorite reasoning, listening to his family recall him back for food.
“Comin!” He said back, knowing his Dad would hear and relay the message to his Mom.
They really shouldn’t use their powers on the farm, it was too open, people could peer in at any moment and see something they shouldn’t. The Kent’s had to know how to take care of the animals, how to clean the coop, and drive the equipment, not because living on a farm was a disguise, but because it was their home.
But it was breakfast, a little super speed to slightly make him quicker to hop onto his farm bike really wouldn’t hurt anybody. And he’d be driving himself back anyway!
“My, you got here awfully quick, didn’t you?” An accusing, investigative tone seeped from Lois’s words as she heard Jon swing the front door open. Jon kicked his boots off and haphazardly placed them on the side of the door. The smell of pepper, black coffee, and scrambled eggs enveloped him like a soft hug. His stomach grumbled as a greeting.
“I guess I was steppin’ a lil’ too hard on the gas.” Jon sheepishly said as his Dad roughly petted his head.
His mom let out a knowing scoff. “Yeah, I’m sure, Jonno,”
The sun had risen quite a bit, and its soft rays gently poured into the windows, casting its warm light over the family. He sighed as he pulled the wooden chair out to let him sit. Krypto wriggled itself next to Jon’s side, already sitting for some table scraps.
“There she is…” He heard his Dad mutter in regards to the sun’s bath of light, his voice was so relaxed. Jon felt it too, the rays seemed to be enough to make him happy and ready for the day. With the light shown on his face, Jon took notice on how his Dad had aged over the years. When Jon came back, his family didn’t look much different. They were the ones that missed out on watching their boy grow up. Jon was so grateful he would be able to watch his family grow old.
“Clark, hun, you want any more coffee?” His mom asked sweetly.
Clark shook his head, before teasingly pulling her in for a kiss. “You’re more than enough to keep me awake.”
“Dad!” Jon groaned as he watched the sappy scene unfold right in front of him. His parents laughed in response to their son’s behavior, Jon was still their child after all, no matter the years the universe unfaithfully took away from them. It was in moments like these where Lois and Clark found some solace that Jon was still that little boy that was wearing ripped up jeans and spoke with a slight squeak.
“How’s’ school goin’ for you, kiddo? Excited for this year to end?” Lois spoke with enthusiasm as she spread strawberry jam onto her toast.
“Geez, tell me about it,” Jon cut through his sunny-side up egg, piercing the yolk as he scarfed down his slice. “I got about a week left till summer break.”
“That’s great, honey!”
“It’s nice goin’ to a university not too far from home,” Jon continued as he chewed his food, he took a swig of his orange juice before he swallowed. “I’d be damned if I let another few years go by without seeing my family.”
“Well, our bank accounts sure are grateful you didn’t go too far off for school.” Clark joked as he straightened the morning newspaper. He was reading his own article while he was eating his breakfast, because of course he would. Lois was peering over Clark’s shoulder to read the article, too.
Jon continued between bites. “And with summer break comin’, I can be home and spend as much time with my family and help out on the farm, of course.”
“Speakin’ of summer break…” Clark started without looking up from his newspaper. “Damian is staying here for the summer.”
Jon hitched his breath at the wrong moment as the orange juice went down the wrong pipe. He coughed idiotically, almost resembling that of a chicken ruffling its feathers. His parents moved to jump from their seats to tap his back, but Jon waved them away.
“’m fine-“ A tiny cough surged out from the back of his throat. “No! Don’t move, please sit, I said I’m fine.” Jon coughed one last time.
“Damian is staying here? Um okay, why?” The question didn’t mean to sound so accusatory, but it did. There was some spite in his voice whenever the topic of Damian would come up. He would get oddly defensive, or would urge for the topic to change when his friends or family would ask about him. It was stupid of him, really. Jon was frustrated and missed him, but it was just different. Is what he keeps letting himself believe.
“Something about needing a change of scenery, is all Bruce really told me.” Clark spoke candidly, his voice was dipping slightly as if talking about Damian was a sensitive topic around Jon. That alone made Jon even more frustrated because there isn’t supposed to be anything between Jon and Damian at all.
“He’s not much on personal details, is he?”
“Easy, son.” Lois reprimanded him. “No need to get so worked up. It’s only Damian.”
“Yeah, no, yeah, It’s just Damian.”
“Now, I gotta know,” there it is, that investigative glint. “What the hell is going on with you? You get all weird when he’s brought up, don’t act like your Dad and I haven’t noticed you being all snappy whenever his name’s mentioned.”
Jon furrowed his brows as he poked the half-eaten sausage on his plate. “It’s nothin’ Mom.” He childishly grumbled.
“I don’t get it, you boys used to be so close, right honey?” Lois tapped Clark on the shoulder as he took bites of his eggs.
“It’s just,” Jon started, shifting slightly in his seat. The wood was beginning to fray around the handles from years of use. “We’re too different now, I used to be younger than him-now I’m older. Let me tell you he sure didn’t look too happy to see me all grown up when I came back, hell he found his new friends-which I’m happy as a damn clam knowing that cuz’ I found my own friends too, we both changed and it’s just too different.” Jon’s southern drawl peaked through the more emotional he’d get. His cheeks flushed when he finished speaking from embarrassment.
Lois took a moment before sighing and reaching out to gently touch her son’s hand. It was once so small, it would fit into the palm of her hand. Her smile was warm and enough to calm him down from his little spiral.
“Now,” Lois started. “Do you want to stop being friends with Damian?”
“No-of course not! I mean if you could even call us friends still-” Jon was about to spiral into a tangent again when his mom cut him off.
“Ah-ah-ah.” Lois spoke with the wave of her finger. “Let me finish, did your Dad and I change when you came back?”
“…No.”
“Then what makes Damian any different?”
“It’s just-”
“It’s just what, he got a couple new friends and now you feel threatened to talk to him?” Clark interjected, wiping his mouth with the table napkin after finishing his meal. The napkins adorned a pattern of sporadically placed farm animals wearing silly hats.
“I’m not threatened-” Jon said with a muffled jolt, he was chewing on his pancakes as he spoke with his voice slightly raised. Though, just barely enough where his parents wouldn’t berate him for raising his voice at them.
“Then what is so important that you don’ wanna spend some time with him? For Rao’s sake, son, he was your best friend.”
“Can I speak or are y’all just fixin’ to cut me off?” Jon joked, albeit a little irritably.
“Well, do your dad and I not have a point? Take this as an opportunity to get close again, show him around the place.” Lois started as she grabbed the finished breakfast plates to place into the sink. She gestured towards Jon’s, but he politely declined as he reached for more eggs to refill his plate.
“Shoot, show ‘em how to get the overnight milk! You know them city boys ain’t accustomed to the farm lifestyle.” Clark interjected with a laugh as he scrubbed the dishes.
Lois rolled her eyes as she grabbed the drying rag to wipe the dishes Clark was washing. Like a gosh darn picture frame, Jon thought as he watched them fall side by side by the kitchen sink.
“Your dad is right, I mean, the house is as big as it gets. You’ll bump into each other at some point. Might as well make kin.” Clark pecked her on her forehead as they worked together to take care of the dishes. It was really a one-person job, but they always told Jon it was better to work together than alone. Jon just thought it was an excuse to get close and kiss each other.
“Thank you for the breakfast, it was really delicious.” Jon muttered as he got up to place his finished plate next to his dad.
“Don’t mention it, honey.” Lois smiled.
“And y’know,” Clark began. “With Damian comin’ in, Kon won’t have to come over as much to help out with the farm this summer. You know how busy he is now living in the city and all. He deserves a little break.”
Shoot. Now Kon was in the picture, and boy did he really need a break from juggling his own personal life and his family’s. Jon raked his hands through his hair after quickly rinsing his hands under the running sink before his dad shut it off.
“Yeah, alright, I’ll stop bein’ all angsty about it. Thanks again for the breakfast.” Jon said as he walked towards the front door to bend down and lay his parent’s shoes out for work at the Daily Planet. They always said it was unnecessary for him to do that, but it was just a gesture he wanted to do for them before they left the house.
“I’ll be home to help you set up the chicken coop for the night after it dries, careful not to let any of them run off onto the other side of the road.” Lois gave Jon a quick peck on the cheek as a nonverbal thank you as she put on her heels.
Jon nodded as he grabbed his parent’s work bags from the dingy desk table near the main entrance. With his free hand, he opened the front door and let his parents walk through first as he handed each their respective briefcases.
He watched as his parents hastily walked down the stairs of the front porch and into their rusted, blue pickup truck. Jon was about to head down back onto his bike before he heard his dad’s voice call out for him from the driver’s seat window.
“Oh,” Clark raised his voice a little as he talked to Jon. “And the Wayne’s will be here in about a week, so howsa’bout you get your room all tidied up unless you wanna let ‘em know you live like you could plant taters in that damn carpet!” Clark let out a hearty laugh as he sat back down to Lois’s level. “Ain’t that right, honey?”
“Christ, farmboy, drive-did you forget we don’t live in the city anymore? It takes almost an hour to get to work.” Lois chastised with a small chuckle.
“A week?!” Jon’s voice rang out in a high-pitched squeak, muffled slightly by the closed front door but still clear enough to make both Lois and Clark chuckle as they backed out of the driveway.
The morning sun grew stronger as the time went on. Its light casted shadows across the fields of corn that stretched onto the driveway, but all that Lois and Clark could feel was the warmth and lightness in their hearts. Their son was finally back home.
Clark’s eyes shone with a slight glint of mischief as he turned to give a quick wink to Lois, before leaning out once more to answer his son’s bewildered squeal.
With a playful wave, he yelled out, “You’ll be alright, son!” Just before he rolled his window back up.
“Bye, honey! We love you!” Lois called from her window, her voice waning as the distance between them grew.
Jon watched with flushed cheeks and messy hair as his parents drove off to work. His heart thudded in his chest as the reality of it all settled in. Jon leaned against his bike. Its wheels were covered in dirt. He needed to wash that, he needed to tend to the crops, he needed to wait for mom to bed the chicken coop, he needed to clean his room because Damian would be here in a week.
Jon let out a strangled sigh as he kicked the gas pedal and spurred his bike alive. “Shoot.”
A day went by since then.
The morning passed the Wayne Manor with a quickness, it was a Saturday morning. No work, no school, meaning that the Wayne’s could finally sleep in. Damian’s father let out a hum as he chewed his late breakfast. The sound of utensils clinking against the opaque plates filtered through the silence.
“Son.” Bruce began after he finished chewing.
“Father.” Damian said as he straightened his back to give his attention.
“You will be staying at the Kent's farm this summer. Starting in a week.”
Damian blinked for a few moments, before clearing his throat. “Excuse me, please repeat that.” His voice was slightly raised, indicating that he was beginning to get worked up.
“You heard me, Damian.” Bruce never really liked to repeat himself.
“Father, you can’t force me-” Damian’s face twitched with irritability at the announcement of bad news.
“You need to learn-“ His father interrupted.
“I have vinyasa-“ Damian interjected because he knew what his father was getting at.
“That is not enough!”
Damian clicked his tongue and stubbornly crossed his arms.
“Son,” Bruce sighed, sounding strangely aged.“You’ll be living in a dorm for a year. I know you’ve changed, I can see it in you, but this is a big transition. A new environment, and I believe putting yourself in a calmer environment with friendly people will help you adjust to living on campus.” Bruce’s voice calmed as he talked, hoping to get through to Damian.
“But it’s a one-person dorm, Father-”
“It doesn’t matter. You’ll still be living on that campus with classmates as your neighbors, you’ll be seeing people everyday. People that aren’t accustomed or understand your background. Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to learn how to make friends with people your age? Instead of Alfred or Dick?”
“The titans-”
“Who also aren’t superheroes.”
Damian felt embarrassed, as his father was basically telling him that he needed to make friends. He clicked his tongue in lieu of a response as he sank back down on his seat, looking away bashfully.
“It’s just a change of scenery for three months, and it’d be nice to speak with an old friend. Maybe learn a thing or two from him.” Bruce spoke calmly as he took another bite of his meal.
“You mean, Jon, father?” Damian tsked in annoyance.
“Would that be so bad?” Bruce asked.
Damian didn’t know what to say, all he really wanted to do was defensively argue and explain why this wasn’t necessary. However, deep down, he knew his father already set up the arrangements. Every bat was incessantly stubborn.
Damian prefers his yoga classes to be in the evening. Sometimes, right before his patrol as he found it relaxed his muscles allowing him to perform better. However, if Father wanted more change, he could take yoga classes in the evenings and mornings. Is that not enough to demonstrate that his behavior towards others is absolutely kind and not quick to hostility?
He pursed his lips at the thought, and took a cleansing breath in. 5…4…3…2…1. Damian parted his lips, and let out a deep sigh, a cleansing breath out, as his yoga instructor would say.
“Fine.” Damian started, a coy smile dawning on his face and he looked forward at his father. “As long as Titus, Alfred, and BatCow can come along with me.”
Bruce smiled softly, his voice was laced with a hint of amusement as he spoke. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”
The week went by fairly quickly.
Alfred purred in his lap as Damian peered through his Father’s tinted windows. Rows and rows of wheat, soy, and corn leading to the quaint, yellow home that Damian would be forced to live in for the next three months.
The cattle trailer attached to the car bumped a bit as the roads changed from pavement to rough dirt.
As his eyes trailed forward towards the house, he found the Kent’s standing by the driveway, all smiling except Jon-who looked a little sheepish.
Jon stood tall, clad in muscles and a red flannel that was rolled to elbows. He looks so stereotypically southern, sunshine, and all things opposite of Gotham and Damian Wayne.
Damian took note of how Jon has aged, years have gone by since they were ten and thirteen. Now, there was so much to Jon that Damian didn’t know.
“You’re brooding, Damian.”
”Tt.”
The black car looked inappropriate to its setting as it pulled into park near the Kent’s mailbox. Damian felt out of place, even Titus seemed unsure of its footing. None of them belonged here. They were city people, parked in the driveway near a field of cows and wheat that replaced the gothic buildings they were so accustomed too.
Damian opened his passenger car door with pensiveness, at least inside the car there was a physical barrier between the two. As Damian stepped out, his senses were harassed by the unfamiliar smells and sounds of Smallville, Kansas.
He was itching to lash out again, and so instead he took a cleansing breath in-a strikingly familiar scent, one that could only belong to Jonathan Kent-wafted over to him. Its familiarity was so overwhelming it made Damian feel lightheaded.
Maybe he developed some stupid, futuristic power that makes people nauseated from his stench. Damian shook his head at the thought and opted to make as little eye contact as possible to a certain half-kryptonian until he was forced to from mandatory greeting purposes. He turned his back and reached for his small suitcase that held his necessities for the next three months.
Lois and Clark jogged over to his father with welcoming, bright smiles that foiled the Wayne’s brooding exterior. The three conversed with sweet sentiments and deep trust that could only be built over years of relying on each other, revealing secret identities, and providing emotional support.
Damian had no place to stand next to the adults, so unfortunately, he had to make his way closer to Jon.
“Hey.” Jon croaked as soon as Damian was well within ear shot.
Damian didn’t bother to ask if that was an intended pun or not.
Damian was mad at Jon. They haven’t had a normal conversation in years, only speaking when giving commands to each other on the field. Jon had left. And showed up older and ruined all the plans Damian had for the two of them. So, given that they haven’t been speaking for a while, Damian felt like he should continue that trend, even if it was merely for the act of being petty.
Thus, he clicked his tongue gesturing Titus to come over, and pointedly ignored Jon as he walked past him to take a step on to the front porch stairs.
Damian heard Jon let out an irritated sigh, “Boy, I betcha think the sun comes up just to hear you crow.” Jon muttered under his breath.
Damian’s childish plan of ignoring Jon quickly fell apart because it seemed that Jon always knew how to get on his nerves. “What?”
Jon was ticked off, frustrated at the distance between the two. Once, they used to have sleepovers, and now Damian won’t even try to be civil and have a conversation outside of the field.
“What,” Jon mocked, turning his body to face Damian. “You don’ know what that means now, do you?” Jon took an aggravated step up the porch stairs to be on the same level as the shorter. The porch creaked from the force. Jon has always been taller than Damian, that didn’t change. But, now given that they were arguing, it felt good knowing that Damian had to look up to him.
“Excuse me hickville speak wasn’t a part of the curriculum of languages that I was taught.”
The parents watched the altercation from the sidelines a few feet away.
“I think it’ll be alright, I mean, don’ they look like how they did some years ago? Always bickerin’ and all?” Clark looked askance with his hand around Lois’s shoulder.
Bruce sighed with his hands on his hips. “I appreciate you taking him in for a bit, but it might get a little crowded in there.” He reasoned, gesturing towards the dog, the cat, the cow, and the arguing boys.
“Oh please, we love the company,” Lois quickly replied with a comforting tone. “And it’d be good for the both of them. I don’t know about you, but Jon’s been real cloudy ever since he and Damian drifted apart.”
Bruce nodded, “Damian’s been upset too, although he’s insisting he’s doing a lot better now ever since he started yoga.”
“Yoga?” Lois asked with a glint of amusement in her tone.
Bruce gave a slight smile as he watched Jon and Damian from a far, he turned back to face Lois and Clark. “If anything happens, call me. I’ll be visiting when I can, don’t tell Damian though. His siblings might come along too. You know how we like to sneak up on each other.”
“Don’ worry about it, hun.” Lois spoke kindly, voice riddled with understanding. “We’ll save a plate for y’all at dinner.”
Ruff-ruff! Ruff!
The companiable conversation between the three was abruptly put to a halt as Titus and Krypto joined the dispute between Jon and Damian, falling into place side by side from their respective owners.
“Easy, boys! Don’t go breakin’ the damn place.” Lois bellowed out to the dogs, consequently including Jon and Damian.
The two decidedly looked away from each other, only nodding silently with an irritated look on both of their faces. Krypto and Titus seemed to be unaffected by Lois’s discipline and continued to play.
Clark whistled for Jon’s attention to throw him a set of keys before he spoke with a smile. “Hey, Jonno! Why don’ you and Damian take Batcow out the trailer and introduces her to the rest of the cows.”
“Fine.” Jon grumbled with a slight tone of annoyance. He grabbed Damian’s suitcase before the other could react and quickly jogged up the rest of the porch steps to open the front door. Jon carefully, albeit with a bit more force than necessary, pushed the suitcase inside the home by the shoe rack.
“I can carry my own things.” Damian interjected as Jon jumped his way back down the porch steps and headed towards the cattle trailer.
Jon took a quick glance at Damian before inserting the key and twisted it until it clicked.
“Hey, baby bell.” Jon cooed as the doors of the trailer opened. “You doin’ alright caged up in there, honey? That was a long drive wasn’t it? Bet it wasn’t easy with him bein’ all snotty, ain’t that right?”
A familiar sound of a tongue being clicked rang in his ears just right behind him.
Batcow let out a loud moo as an answer. She was a bit apprehensive at first, but took a tentative step forward as she saw Damian waiting for her.
“That’s it, honey, come on out.” Jon praised.
“Her name isn’t ’honey’,” Damian’s voice dripped with annoyance. “Her name is ‘Batcow’”.
“I dunno,” Jon teased as he began walking her towards the pasture. “I think she doesn’t mind bein’ called ‘honey’.”
Damian was oddly quiet after that on the walk towards the pasture. Silence filtered through between them, the sounds of the winds blowing through the wheat and soy replaced the verbal conversation that they lacked. It’s been years since the two of them had a meaningful conversation beyond fighting crime.
There was so much they didn’t know about each other now.
The sun changed its powerful, bright yellow midday rays as it began to set, painting the sky into a vast and beautiful orange. The three passed by the chicken coop, where there lay a bedding of hay and some flowers.
“The flowers look nice.” Damian’s voice felt brittle in his throat.
“Huh?” Jon sounded startled as they continued to walk. Damian watched him quickly recollect himself. “Oh, for the chickens? Yeah, Mom and I did that last week.”
”Hm.” Damian said, awkwardly.
“Moo.” Batcow gave a small greeting as she saw some of the chickens heading into their coop.
The cow pasture was a less than a few miles away from the front porch. The conversations they had felt strange, and so they let their words trickle into silence. It was easier to converse when they had something to argue about.
Jon whistled before he gently opened the gate, letting Batcow and Damian in and hastily closing the gate shut.
A few of the cows perked their head towards the whistle and gave a tired moo in response. A couple others walked towards her to greet her. Batcow sniffed the plush, green grass and graciously took a bite.
Jon and Damian silently watched her for a bit, enjoying how she grazed upon the grass. The soft wind chimes hanging by the trees sung as the wind blew picked up.
”It’s gettin’ dark out, we can’t keep ‘em waiting too long.” Jon said as he watched the orange rays shift to a slight red. It was breathtaking, Damian admitted, the sky was a free canvas without buildings obscuring its beauty.
Damian nodded in agreement without looking away from Batcow. He would feel bad if his father stayed later than necessary. But, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be flown or carried in Jon’s arms.
“Mom doesn’t like me using my powers out on the farm.” Jon spoke, jumping over the gate he had closed. Damian took one last look at Batcow before jumping over the gate himself. His statement halted Damian’s thoughts as if he knew what he was thinking of. “We can take my motorbike.”
Motorbike? Damian incredulously thought.
Jon’s legs dangled to wrap around each side as he sat down on his motorcycle that was parked by the pasture. Damian pursed his lips at the sight, since when did he get a damn motorcycle. It was slightly covered in dirt, with a small crate attached to the side of it.
Ah, a farming motorcycle. Of course.
“Get on, Damian.” Jon said as he kicked the gas pedal of the bike. Its engine sound groaned loudly against the stillness of the dusk.
It was the first time Jon had referred to him by his name in a long time. He had done it a million times before when they were kids, so why was it so strange for him to hear now?
”I have much more experience on riding motorcycles than you, Kent. It would be best if I drove.” Damian said.
Damian noticed Jon clench his teeth in grit. “Damian, just get on the damn bike.”
He cusses now, too. What else do I not know?
Damian clicked his tongue as he grabbed onto the side of the bike and hoisted himself over. The bike was oddly shaped, as it was intended for farming purposes, so its seat was a bit lengthier than usual. Damian was thankful for the extra space.
As soon as Damian adjusted himself, Jon stepped on the gas and they drove their way back to the front door. Forced to stare at the back of his former childhood best friend, Damian noticed Jon’s back had gotten wider. His hair was recently cut, giving him a more mature look. Damian felt oddly self conscious at the fact that Jon was now a man.
He willed himself not to think about it and focused on how the wind breezed harshly against his skin as Jon sped a bit faster.
At the sight of the motorcycle being pulled up, Clark and Lois took turns giving Bruce a farewell hug. Letting him know again, that him and his family were always welcome. Damian resolutely hopped off Jon’s bike and jogged towards his Father to say goodbye. Clark and Lois walked to the front porch to give the Wayne’s some privacy.
Jon turned the ignition key off to shut off his bike, its vibrations stilled as Jon parked by the porch stairs. He quickly jumped off the side and skipped to join his parents.
Bruce, with his calloused hands, ruffled his son’s hair much to Damian’s chagrin.
“I still do not think this is necessary, Father.” Damian muttered as he whispered a goodbye.
Bruce pointedly ignored his son’s complaint and turned to face Jon. “Take good care of him, Jon.” Bruce said, with his voice slightly raised as he opened his car door.
“I’ll try. Drive safe, Mr. Wayne.” Jon yelled back while he waved Bruce a farewell. He watched Damian’s figure give his dad a hug goodbye.
Minutes later, Clark and Lois made their way inside after watching Bruce’s car drive off.
Jon was about to head in as well, until he saw a pensive look on Damian’s face.
I guess a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt. Jon thought as he leaned onto the wooden post. He waited until he noticed Damian stir to make a move towards the door.
Jon quickly opened the front door before Damian could. He gestured for Damian to go in first before following in suit. The light blue paint was peeling along the edges, he mentally checked that as one of the chores he had to do this summer. The door slightly creaked as it closed behind them, officially starting Damian’s summer living with the Kent’s.