Spoilers for Terrors oh god why can I only write for Young Justice now
Title: Frigid
Fandom: Young Justice
Characters: Superboy, Icicle Jr. (aka Conner Kent and Cameron Mahkent, hey their names are weirdly thematic, derp)
Rating: PG (language)
Word Count: 1,009
Summary: Conner tries to help. Cam screws up the one thing he wanted to get right.
A/N: Written for a prompt on yj_anon_meme. "Even after manipulating and betraying him, Superboy still sometimes visits Icicle Junior in prison."
"You have a visitor."
Cameron sat up in his bunk and blinked. "I do? Who is it?"
The guard tapped a foot in impatient silence, blank-faced. Cam curled a lip in distaste, but slid down from his bunk, ignoring his (replacement, he doesn't think) cellmate. It wasn't like Cam had any friends on the outside; not really. Some of the boys he used to run with might not turn him away when he got out, but he almost had to laugh at the idea of them visiting him in prison.
The walk down to the visitor's area was long and punctuated by occasional guard-trippings. Cam had never actually been; it was farther down than he'd assumed, and when they arrived, he was shoved into a small, gray room with a single bolted-down chair in front of a plexiglass window.
And behind the glass--
It actually took Cam a moment to recognize him. Different hair, one of those stupid superhero shirts everyone was wearing these days, but…
Shock welled up fast, but was eclipsed just as quickly by blind, red fury.
Cam threw himself up against the window and slammed his fists into the glass once, twice - Tommy didn't even fucking move, didn't even twitch, and Cam remembered that wasn't even the bastard's real name and heard himself growling. "Why are you here!?" he demanded at the top of his voice.
Tommy - Superboy looked up at Cam from his seat with solemn eyes. "I wanted to talk to you."
"Fuck you!" Cam spat, slamming a palm against the glass again. "I'm not even supposed to be here! I'd be on the outside right now if it weren't for you!"
"I know."
"And you had to come back to rub it in my face!?"
Something that looked a lot like remorse passed over Superboy's face. "Cameron--"
"Don't call me that!" Cam snarled.
There was a moment of pained silence, and Cam realized he couldn't even fucking breathe, just pull in ragged gasps of air that burned his lungs and drove his rage higher by the second, and…and Superboy was waiting. Waiting for him to calm down. That should have pissed Cam off even more, but instead he slumped, let his head hit the glass and squeezed his eyes shut.
After a long moment, Superboy asked, "What do you want me to call you?"
Cam straightened up and turned away. "I don't want you to call me anything," he snapped. "I want you to get out."
"I'm sorry."
Just like that, Cam was furious again. "You don't get to be sorry!" He punched the glass again, wishing for his ice. "You know what goes on in here? This isn't fucking juvie, you prick! My dad won't protect me anymore because of what you did! I'm stuck in here until kingdom-fucking-come because of what you did!"
"I know."
The fact that Superboy wouldn't be angry was making Cam want to murder him outright. He dug his fingers so hard into the glass that one of his nails bent and cracked. "I liked you!" he hissed, and immediately regretted it. But he'd said it, and the son of a bitch was here, so Cam kept going, voice rising as he did until he was shouting: "I liked you. You were the only idiot who never treated me like shit and you were lying! You acted like I meant something; like I had potential and wasn't a total fuck-up and you were lying! You--" Cam's voice broke, and he slammed his fists into the glass again. "You manipulated me and made my dad hate me and got me trapped in this hellhole and got your fucking girl and you left - you acted like you--"
"Saw the psycho that you were and liked you anyway," said Superboy, very quietly.
Cam almost choked on indignant rage. "Yes!"
"I did. I still do."
It took Cam a second to process that, and then he sat down so hard it jarred all the way up his spine. He tried to start a sentence about seven times before giving up and settling on, "What?"
"I like you anyway," said Superboy, "but I don't think you're really a psycho in the first place. You just want to impress your dad. I wasn't making it up when I said I understood."
"You--" said Cam, and stopped. Gears turned in his head and he felt the expression on his own face growing incredulous, but couldn't stop it. "…Superman?"
Superboy actually looked away, adopting that kicked-puppy expression that Cam had found kind of funny on a big guy like him. "Yeah. He…" Superboy shook his head and looked back up. "Look, I think you could do a lot of good when you get out of here. Dr. Strange says he'll talk to you more often and put you in a work program if you want, and with good behavior you could be out in two years, a year and a half. I talked to Batman and he agreed to put you on a team or something when you're rehabilitated. And…" Superboy looked away again. "I want to come back to see you. If you're okay with it. Once a week, or something?"
He wasn't making eye contact. Cam felt like a chunk had been ripped right out of his chest. Cold, freezing cold, in a way he'd always liked before, but now…
Cam closed his eyes. "Get out."
"What?" Superboy's voice was shocked, the hurt in his eyes printed clear as day on the backs of Cam's eyelids. He swallowed thickly.
"I said, get out. And don't come back."
"But--"
"GET OUT!" Cam threw his whole weight, shoulder-first, against the glass, and walked away. He hammered at the door until the guard walked in and threw him into the hall.
Cam never looked back. He wouldn't let himself.
Superboy was a good person. The best he'd ever met.
If there was one damn thing in Cam's entire life he was determined not to ruin by associating himself with, it was that.
Fandom: Young Justice
Characters: Superboy, Icicle Jr. (aka Conner Kent and Cameron Mahkent, hey their names are weirdly thematic, derp)
Rating: PG (language)
Word Count: 1,009
Summary: Conner tries to help. Cam screws up the one thing he wanted to get right.
A/N: Written for a prompt on yj_anon_meme. "Even after manipulating and betraying him, Superboy still sometimes visits Icicle Junior in prison."
"You have a visitor."
Cameron sat up in his bunk and blinked. "I do? Who is it?"
The guard tapped a foot in impatient silence, blank-faced. Cam curled a lip in distaste, but slid down from his bunk, ignoring his (replacement, he doesn't think) cellmate. It wasn't like Cam had any friends on the outside; not really. Some of the boys he used to run with might not turn him away when he got out, but he almost had to laugh at the idea of them visiting him in prison.
The walk down to the visitor's area was long and punctuated by occasional guard-trippings. Cam had never actually been; it was farther down than he'd assumed, and when they arrived, he was shoved into a small, gray room with a single bolted-down chair in front of a plexiglass window.
And behind the glass--
It actually took Cam a moment to recognize him. Different hair, one of those stupid superhero shirts everyone was wearing these days, but…
Shock welled up fast, but was eclipsed just as quickly by blind, red fury.
Cam threw himself up against the window and slammed his fists into the glass once, twice - Tommy didn't even fucking move, didn't even twitch, and Cam remembered that wasn't even the bastard's real name and heard himself growling. "Why are you here!?" he demanded at the top of his voice.
Tommy - Superboy looked up at Cam from his seat with solemn eyes. "I wanted to talk to you."
"Fuck you!" Cam spat, slamming a palm against the glass again. "I'm not even supposed to be here! I'd be on the outside right now if it weren't for you!"
"I know."
"And you had to come back to rub it in my face!?"
Something that looked a lot like remorse passed over Superboy's face. "Cameron--"
"Don't call me that!" Cam snarled.
There was a moment of pained silence, and Cam realized he couldn't even fucking breathe, just pull in ragged gasps of air that burned his lungs and drove his rage higher by the second, and…and Superboy was waiting. Waiting for him to calm down. That should have pissed Cam off even more, but instead he slumped, let his head hit the glass and squeezed his eyes shut.
After a long moment, Superboy asked, "What do you want me to call you?"
Cam straightened up and turned away. "I don't want you to call me anything," he snapped. "I want you to get out."
"I'm sorry."
Just like that, Cam was furious again. "You don't get to be sorry!" He punched the glass again, wishing for his ice. "You know what goes on in here? This isn't fucking juvie, you prick! My dad won't protect me anymore because of what you did! I'm stuck in here until kingdom-fucking-come because of what you did!"
"I know."
The fact that Superboy wouldn't be angry was making Cam want to murder him outright. He dug his fingers so hard into the glass that one of his nails bent and cracked. "I liked you!" he hissed, and immediately regretted it. But he'd said it, and the son of a bitch was here, so Cam kept going, voice rising as he did until he was shouting: "I liked you. You were the only idiot who never treated me like shit and you were lying! You acted like I meant something; like I had potential and wasn't a total fuck-up and you were lying! You--" Cam's voice broke, and he slammed his fists into the glass again. "You manipulated me and made my dad hate me and got me trapped in this hellhole and got your fucking girl and you left - you acted like you--"
"Saw the psycho that you were and liked you anyway," said Superboy, very quietly.
Cam almost choked on indignant rage. "Yes!"
"I did. I still do."
It took Cam a second to process that, and then he sat down so hard it jarred all the way up his spine. He tried to start a sentence about seven times before giving up and settling on, "What?"
"I like you anyway," said Superboy, "but I don't think you're really a psycho in the first place. You just want to impress your dad. I wasn't making it up when I said I understood."
"You--" said Cam, and stopped. Gears turned in his head and he felt the expression on his own face growing incredulous, but couldn't stop it. "…Superman?"
Superboy actually looked away, adopting that kicked-puppy expression that Cam had found kind of funny on a big guy like him. "Yeah. He…" Superboy shook his head and looked back up. "Look, I think you could do a lot of good when you get out of here. Dr. Strange says he'll talk to you more often and put you in a work program if you want, and with good behavior you could be out in two years, a year and a half. I talked to Batman and he agreed to put you on a team or something when you're rehabilitated. And…" Superboy looked away again. "I want to come back to see you. If you're okay with it. Once a week, or something?"
He wasn't making eye contact. Cam felt like a chunk had been ripped right out of his chest. Cold, freezing cold, in a way he'd always liked before, but now…
Cam closed his eyes. "Get out."
"What?" Superboy's voice was shocked, the hurt in his eyes printed clear as day on the backs of Cam's eyelids. He swallowed thickly.
"I said, get out. And don't come back."
"But--"
"GET OUT!" Cam threw his whole weight, shoulder-first, against the glass, and walked away. He hammered at the door until the guard walked in and threw him into the hall.
Cam never looked back. He wouldn't let himself.
Superboy was a good person. The best he'd ever met.
If there was one damn thing in Cam's entire life he was determined not to ruin by associating himself with, it was that.