SR/SV/TT - The Way I Was Made - Part I of III (Adult)
I started this story almost two months ago, more on a lark than anything else. I wasn't serious. It wasn't going to happen. I was tired and didn't want to write anymore. At some point I went to delete the file, which was about 1/5 of what it is now, and got sidetracked. Eventually, instead of throwing it away, I sent the file somewhere where I figured I'd never see it again. I think most writers know this abyss of 'Shit that Will Never Happen.' So imagine my surprise when three weeks ago this story popped up in my mind. This is still the story I couldn't write. It's the story that wasn't going to happen. Except I was wrong. Go figure.
Fandoms: Superman Returns/Smallville/Teen Titans
Spoilers: Heavily SR (but not in the way you probably think); SV (Season 1); TT (vaguely)
Rating: Adult (m/m)
Word Count: 22,496
Summary: Remarks like that are his inner Luthor coming out.
Notes: I think I've said plenty. Casting and soundtrack available at the end of the story.
The Way I Was Made
When Jason Lane was small his mother used to read him stories from a big scrapbook of articles she'd collected. The stories were about superheroes: the Flash, the Green Arrow, Wonder Woman, the Batman -- the superheroes that Jason sometimes saw on the news when he was supposed to be in bed, but had somehow convinced his dad to let him stay up ten more minutes to watch. Jason’s mother said she’d started collecting them when she was pregnant with Jason and had never been able to stop, which was why sometimes the newspaper had big holes in it.
Jason's favorite stories were about Superman. His mother didn't read them very often, but sometimes, if he was very good, she would pull out her special red cloth scrapbook and read to him from their yellowing pages.
Superheroes stood for everything that was good and true. They were just and always did the right thing. They never lied about eating all of their lima beans and spitting them into their napkins.
When Jason was six his dad bought him first comic book, Warrior Angel No.147.
When Jason was seven, his mother's friend, Superman, began telling him stories about the Green Lantern and his home planet of Krypton, and how the Justice League worked together to make the world better for children like Jason.
When Jason was eight he learned that everyone had been lying.
*
The first time Jason meets The Robin is in a dark alley that smells of snow overlaid with smog and stale urine. It's the end of January, and judging by the mugger at Jason’s feet who’s wearing four layers of clothing, it's pretty damn cold.
Someone's been watching Jason for a week or two, and at least now, with a glance at the mouth of the alley, Jason knows who it is. With the spandex and the cape and the mask, it couldn’t be anyone else.
"Huh," is Jason’s entire greeting before going back about his business.
One of Jason’s genetic donors is Superman, so even if his mom hadn't gotten him hooked at an early age, Jason would know all about the Batman and his Robins.
The Robin or -- Robin -- doesn't actually introduce himself, but he doesn't interfere with what Jason's doing either, so they're fine.
"Don't you have a real crime to stop?" Jason's only half listening since he's experimenting with a surgeon's knot to tie up the mugger who was trying to rob a senior Tri-Delt.
Jason likes the Tri-Delts: they throw great parties, they have great tits, and they have no problem making out with their sisters for Jason's gratification. They also like having sex in the unisex bathrooms of Royston Hall.
As for the mugger, well, Jason read about the surgeon’s knot on-line when he was looking for random chemistry experiments to try out after hours. Apparently, if you clean up after yourself in the labs when things explode, most people are inclined to look the other way, especially if you’ve had sex with them in the stairwell of Williams Fine Arts Library and their girlfriend doesn’t know about it.
Jason likes to make things explode; Jason also spends a lot of time using his abilities to clean things up.
He has no idea how regular people clean up their messes.
"This isn't a real crime?" Robin asks curiously. His words escape in white puffs as he cocks his head to the side, taking in Jason and the mugger and the alley with imperceptible (to anyone not like Jason) nods. His movements are fluid like a -- well, like a superhero. Obviously. "It sure looks like you're assaulting someone to me."
"He deserved it -- he tried to mug --" There's dirt on Jason's hands, and he brushes it off on the thighs of his jeans. Everyone else wears a costume; Jason depends on people not wanting to look him in the eye.
Body language helps a lot; Clark taught him that.
Robin is playing with something on his belt. Well, maybe "playing" isn't the right word. "The red-head girl that ran off -- I was watching, I know."
Robin has this cape, this really long yellow cape. It drags on the ground as he approaches Jason, but if Jason didn't have superhearing he probably wouldn't be able to hear it. The red spandex is pretty revealing, in a "Hi, I'm really toned and hot, and I know you want to stare" way, but Jason's kind of working right now. The black briefs shouldn't work, but go figure. Jason has no idea why people wear their underwear on the outside of their uniform.
Clark does that and it just looks like he got dressed in a hurry and messed up.
Jason snorts. "All watching and no doing -- wow, I feel safer already."
"I’m sure he feels safer too." Robin gestures at Jason’s feet, and Jason looks down at the trussed up mugger. The mugger's eyes are huge, and it takes Jason a moment to realize that the fear isn't for him, it's for Robin.
"Who doesn’t like being saved by a hot guy in spandex?" Jason mocks. "I know I do."
"Cute," Robin says.
Jason shoots him his brightest, most charming grin. "I know I am." Jason's learned well from his dads. They believe in truth, justice, and being a good man; Jason believes in being charismatic. Apparently he gets that from his other dad.
Robin makes a derisive snort as he shoots something into the dark Gotham sky. "Modest too. You're just the complete package, aren't you?"
Jason can hear the faint 'crack' of a grappling hook entering crumbling brick. He winks. "I don't have all the toys like some people, but I try to get the job done."
"Just be careful," Robin says before taking off.
Jason doesn't want to be impressed, but for someone who doesn't fly, the Robin can certainly make an exit. Jason can’t help it if he’s checking out Robin’s ass.
He’s a college freshman -- it’s what he’s supposed to do.
*
At night Jason tries to do good things, like stopping petty crimes and making sure that his fellow students don't get swallowed up by the Gotham underbelly. He doesn't really care about the soft drug issue since the first person he'd have to arrest is his roommate, Luke.
The vigilante thing isn’t about taking after Clark; Jason's forte is fights and robberies and assault -- beating up women is a big no-no in Jason's book. According to his Psychology class, his sense of fairness is overdeveloped in certain areas.
During the day and partying hours, it's a whole other story.
Gotham is Jason's reward for surviving his childhood; he's earned the right to run away. In fact, he picked Gotham U the moment the college brochure showed up on Riverside Drive, even though he wasn't sure his grades were good enough. Actually, Jason knew his grades weren't good enough, but he wanted this, and so he asked for it. He didn't mention that part to his dad or Clark, but what was the point in having Lex Luthor for an absentee dad if you couldn't e-mail him every now and then and say, "I want this."
Jason's only done this twice.
*
The door to his dorm room is open when Jason gets back to Halston, and Luke's sitting on his bed pretending to read some book the size of his head. Luke grunts at Jason's greeting and goes back to the book in his lap; Jason just raises an eyebrow and pats the top of the TV, which is still warm.
"I know you're not trying to pretend you weren't just watching Sports Center," Jason mocks, kicking his shoes off and dropping into a wooden atrocity that passes for a desk chair.
Jason's never shared a bedroom with anyone, so the first few weeks of living with his roommate were like hell on earth. It had nothing to do with Luke being a bad roommate, and everything to do with Jason thinking that Luke was hot. Being an all-sexual half-alien is sometimes really hard on Jason's hormones, and being stuck in a room the size of a horse stall doesn't help matters.
What does help is that Luke snores like a 300 lb. football player with a deviated septum, is physically incapable of picking up his own clothes, and every time he finishes a can of Zesti he crushes it against his forehead.
Sexual attraction is no match for belching and farting.
Luke actually waits a beat before looking up at Jason, eyes wide with mock surprise. "I have no idea what you're talking about, hermano, can't you see me studying my Japanese?"
The book Luke shows him says Political Science and the New Economy; Jason snickers and points. "Wrong book, man."
"Okay," Luke laughs before dropping the book over the side of the bed. "You got me."
Luke's mom is Guatemalan and his dad is black, and he looks like someone out of a magazine ad. All that translates to is that he likes to curse in Spanish and has a predilection for Shakira and Dead Prez. The first time Jason saw him in his boxers, he set one of his socks on fire. Thankfully, he's gotten over that. Beside, Luke is a genuinely good guy, and Jason doesn't need to mess that up with sex.
"Like that's so tough," Jason says, leaning over to rummage in the top drawer of his dresser/dry good storage for something to eat. Powerbars and ramen, yum. "It's after midnight and you're not stoned or out drinking away brain cells with the rest of your teammates, it must be sports."
Luke flips Jason the bird as he busies himself looking for something in his unmade bed. "Dude, I lost the remote."
Jason laughs. "Because you can't move the four feet to turn on the TV - you're so fucking lazy. Damn."
"Hijo de puta," Luke swears, crawling around and flinging things on the floor. He's wearing blue and green boxers and a red tee shirt, because there are only two temperatures in their room: freezing and sweltering. Luke's outfit clashing is classic superhero. "I'm gonna miss the last five minutes of Sports Center, they were supposed to talk about the German coach resigning."
"What'll you give me if I turn it on?"
"Respect," Luke hollers over his shoulder, his ass directly in Jason's face.
Jason exhales through his nose. "I'm hungry."
"My mom sent some quesadillas," Luke cajoles.
Jason sighs and throws something at the TV to divert from him using his abilities to turn it on. "Happy now?"
Luke whirls around and gives him this grin that's all white teeth. "You're the best slutty food-for-hire roommate a boy could have," he says tossing Jason a Tupperware container.
It's Jason's turn to grin. "Wow, thanks," he says around mouth full of cheese and tortilla.
*
One time Jason died. It was two years ago, but his family don’t like to talk about that. It was something to do with Kryptonian puberty, and Jason being a moody teenage asshole, and not being as strong as he thought he was, even if he’s Superman’s son. Jason doesn't like talking about it, either.
He's alive now, and that's all that matters.
*
Jason hates math.
He thinks it was created just to prove how super he's not. His dad used to quiz him with flash cards when he was little; he said Jason's mom was bad with math too.
Calculus isn't the same as 2 + 2 = 4, though, and Jason's not too sure how he's going to take care of his math requirement without bribery and blackmail.
Remarks like that are his inner Luthor coming out, which is a big joke with his dad, but Clark doesn't really tend to laugh about it very much. When Clark is all uptight, Jason reminds him that he's a genetically created baby, who was implanted in his mom while she was kidnapped on assignment. It took three men and two women just to get him into college.
Jason's bound to be a little warped; Clark should just accept it.
Jason thinks he's pretty sane all things considered. Normal, never, but marginally well-adjusted according to his Freshman Psychology class, which he aced considering he only went five times the entire semester. He's doing pretty awesome -- if he does say so himself -- in his writing class, too, but he would probably be disowned if he couldn't write well.
The class he really likes is Chemistry, and by likes he means he goes because it feeds his desire to make something unique in the world. Every drop of every liquid is a creation of something new, something unknown. Every mixture is fractionally different from the one before it and the one after it, every second is a chance to do something no one has ever done. Or at least make things explode.
Who wouldn’t love a class like that?
Not that the experiments are ever supposed to blow up -- but in learning how to do something right, you have to prove that it's not wrong -- and then after class Professor Bernhardt gets to blow them up because she's in charge.
If Jason could just get Calculus to bow down to him then life would be fantastic, but he’s finally found something he can’t bend, charm, or ignore, which is how he ends up at the Tutoring Center.
The girl at the front desk has pink streaks in her hair, bright blue eye shadow, green nails and she types faster than Clark. The entire time Jason's asking her about getting help, she’s staring at the computer screen.
It’s a sad day when Jason loses out to a computer, and he's not even sure she's listening until she scrawls his name on a message pad and rips it off. "Albertson Hall. 2pm. His name is Tim Drake," she says waving him off. "If you're late, he'll make you sorry."
It's only when Jason gets outside that he realizes it's 1:55, and Albertson is on the other side of campus. He breezes through the front doors at 1:56.
Jason assumes that life without "abilities" must suck.
*
Once upon a time Jason’s mom died in a freak accident in Bahrain. After that his dad got involved with Clark Kent, which was fine with Jason, because two dads were better than one dad and no mom. Except it turned out Jason didn’t just have two dads -- he had three.
*
Jason knows who Tim is the moment he sets foot inside the Albertson Hall lounge; he's the only one who doesn't look up when Jason arrives.
Jason wouldn’t say he’s The Big Man on Campus, but he knows how to get attention. He can set things on fire with his eyes -- that always gets people’s attention.
Tim doesn't even twitch when Jason drops his backpack on the table and clears his throat. That’s just wrong. "Hey, are you Tim?" he asks pushing the note from the message pad across the table.
Tim looks up, gives Jason a once over glance, and then goes back to his book. Jason just raises an eyebrow when Tim kicks out the chair across from him. "You must be my two o'clock, have a seat."
Jason sits down noisily, ignoring a glare from the mousy girl in the corner drowning in Camus. She has that yellow tinge of someone who’s been spending too much time under fluorescent lights. She should get out and enjoy the Gotham smog.
Tim’s hair is clean and shiny, and Jason would say that he's seen Tim around, but he thinks if he had he would remember having hit on him. Jason can't meet someone that looks like Tim and not flirt with him at least a little bit -- dark messy hair, huge eyes, pink mouth.
Presumably, Jason gets his sex drive from his Luthor genes. His dad has only been on a handful of dates since the Clark thing, and Jason can’t even start to think of Clark having sex, because it gives him a pain in his kidneys and a twitch in his eye.
"So, you're my tutor," Jason begins while staring at the exposed hollow of Tim's throat.
Tim's wearing a tee shirt layered over an Oxford, but Jason can see how slender he is. He’s not girlie, he's just not really manly either. He has these long fingers that are absently twirling a pen, but Jason would bet his last packet of Ramen that Tim's never done anything absently in his life.
Tim makes a noncommittal noise, which Jason takes a good sign. At least it's not an unequivocal glare of 'fuck off and die.'
How Jason manages to get laid as much as he does is something of a mystery to everyone around him, especially Bart and Luke. It's not as though Jason's particularly slick; he just makes it work.
Some people act out by doing drugs; Jason has sex.
"It's good to know that you can make an observation. That's a start," Tim says sticking his pen in the spine of his book before closing it. When he finally looks at Jason, it's with a wry smirk on his face. "So, tell me, Jason Conner Lane, what else can you do?"
Jason blinks once. The only person who calls him by his entire name is his grandma, and that's only when he's really messed up. Jason has to squash this urge to use his heat vision on Tim's chair and show him exactly what Jason can do. Sometimes Jason has temper issues. Instead he pushes a stray lock of his hair behind his left ear and gives Tim a grin. "I can make things blow up."
Tim rolls his eyes. "Does that really matter if you can't do the math behind it?"
Jason balances his chair on two legs and smirks. "That's why I have you, right?"
*
Jason only has nightmares sometimes, which is why he makes a point of not spending the night when he has sex, because it's better to be safe than explain the screaming to someone who wouldn't understand anyway. Sometimes he dreams about his mom. Sometimes he dreams about his dad. Sometimes he dreams that Clark never lied, and his mom never died, but he was still just as screwed up anyway.
Apparently this is called ‘having issues.’
*
Jason is already in the lab when Tim arrives. It’s their first lab lesson, which Jason thinks is totally unnecessary, because he can make things blow up fine -- it’s the math thing that’s killing him.
Tim's pretty insistent that it'll be easier for Jason to understand the math if he's has an interactive lesson. He says he wants to see Jason ‘in his element’, so he can figure out how best to work with him. For his part, Jason has plenty of ways for Tim to get to know how he works -- but they have nothing to do with the kind of chemistry you do in the lab.
As far as Jason can tell, there’s no place for calculus in chemistry -- physics sure, chemistry no -- but whatever.
Jason’s a little distracted with a household experiment he looked up on-line. Apparently if you mix ammonia and bleach together you can make something explode. There’d been warnings, but warnings were for pussies and people who could still be grounded.
The fumes are a bit strong, but he’s got his goggles on and he’s under the fume hood. Except that one minute he’s playing Mad Scientist and the next there’s yelling, the fan going on noisily, and Tim’s yanking Jason away from the workstation with one hand and slamming the hood shut with the other. "What the hell are you doing, Lane?"
"Hey! Do you see me working here?" Tim’s knuckles are white in the fabric of Jason’s green shirt, and Jason didn’t realize Tim could get so angry. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are bright. It’s kind of hot.
Jason blinks behind his goggles for time.
"How the hell are you not passed out on the floor?" Tim’s shouting in that quiet way that Jason’s dad does sometimes when Jason really fucks up or scares him. "That stuff is toxic, what the hell are you thinking?!"
Jason blinks again, because well, huh. "I, um -- dunno?"
Tim’s eyes are huge, the irises a thin circle of blue. "Jason, do you have a brain in your head? Jesus Christ, didn’t you read the labels? Have you been paying attention in class at all?"
"Is this a surprise quiz?" Jason offers with a half-smile, but Tim looks so pissed off and so disappointed that Jason’s smile dies off. He almost wants to tell Tim he’s Superman’s kid and this couldn’t harm him in a million years just to get rid of the tightness in Tim’s face. Still, it’s a little early in their relationship for Confessions of a Test Tube Kryptonian.
Tim’s close enough that Jason can feel his breath against his face, and it’s only when he looks down that he realizes Tim’s still holding onto his shirt. "You can let go if you want," Jason says, with a smirk to defuse the situation. "You don’t have to, but I feel like I should give you the option, before I get the wrong idea."
"You are a wrong idea," Tim snaps, but some of the tightness is gone. "Get your stuff together, no more playing for you," he says releasing Jason and stepping back into his own space.
Jason’s frown is only slightly sullen. "You never let me have any fun."
"I’m sure there are a lot of people who are thankful for that and don’t even know it."
Jason narrows his eyes. He left hitting on sophomore gymnasts in the Quad for this?
*
Jason's spent some of his formative years living with his Grandma Martha because Clark and his dad were fighting over, well, everything.
The specifics are a little on the fuzzy side - repression will do that to you -- but he remembers a lot of yelling about Clark being Superman, and Superman sleeping with his mom, and him not telling his dad when his dad was already sleeping with Clark. Over several days that argument became his dad yelling about Clark not being a real dad to Jason, and his name was Jason not Kon-El, and Lex Luthor was a goddamn genetic donor who had no parental rights regardless of what his lawyers said, and it all kind of blew up, because no one in Jason's family does things the easy way.
*
"So, I got myself a tutor," Jason casually mentions to Bart at lunch the next day. "You know, so I can stop failing Calculus."
Jason met Bart first semester in Psychology 101. Bart was the only other person in the class who stayed away for the entire lecture on ‘Martyr Complexes and Modern Day Superheroes.’
"You’re failing Calculus because all you want to do is to blow things up in Chem," Bart points out over his third bowl of something that’s supposed to be spaghetti. Jason knows the real thing; he’s fairly certain that Bart’s eating ketchup with pasta.
"Your point being what?"
Bart makes a noise between shoveling food in his mouth. "I’m not the most intelligent person, but there are plenty of scientific studies that point out that--"
"But you certainly are the hungriest," Jason interrupts.
"There’s nothing wrong with needing a tutor." Bart continues on as though Jason hasn’t said anything. He's the most in control ADHD person Jason's ever met though, so it’s entirely possible that in Bart’s mind they’re a lot further along in the conversation, especially since Bart’s on his dessert now. His second. Jason didn’t even realize he’d finished his fake spaghetti.
"His name is Tim," Jason’s constantly amazed at how someone as small as Bart can put away so much food. "Tim Drake."
Bart actually pauses for a moment and cocks his head to the side. "Tim?"
"You know him?"
"Maybe. That depends on your intentions. Are you planning on sleeping with him and then pissing him off by running out on him?"
"That only happened one time," Jason protests. Who knew petite blondes named Sally could be so vicious?
He's never dating another cheerleader in his life.
"Twice," corrects Bart.
"Oh, yeah." Jason forgot about the murderous closeted hockey player.
"Right."
Jason never told Bart that he was bisexual, but he thinks that Bart’s not that surprised. "So, do you know him?"
Bart’s grin splits his entire face in half. "Yeah, I know Tim -- just not biblically."
Jason rolls his eyes and throws his balled up napkin at Bart’s head. "I never said anything about knowing him biblically."
Bart coughs and bits of food fly out his mouth. It’s gross. Gross but cool. "This is you, Jay, everything with you is about knowing someone biblically."
"I don’t know you biblically," Jason points out.
Bart crosses his arms. "And we’re going to keep it that way, too."
Jason pouts. "Bart, I’m not your type? I think I’m hurt."
Bart rolls his eyes. "Please, a two-by-four couldn’t slow you down."
*
Jason’s sitting at the piano playing something he’s heard on the radio. Or maybe it’s something from TV. He doesn’t think too hard when he plays, he just likes it. It makes him happy. His tutor told him that he's really good for eleven, and if he practices every day maybe he can go to the conservatory. His dad says that if that’s what he wants then they can make it happen. Jason just wants to play.
There’s a little blood on his shirt from playing soldiers with the kids down the street -- he fell out of a tree while scouting -- but he knows the scratch will be gone by tomorrow.
When his dad sits down next to him, Jason changes from the TV commercial music to something older his dad likes. The heat from his dad’s body warms him like the sun streaming through the bay windows, and Jason plays in time with his dad’s breathing.
"So, you’ve probably heard Clark and I talking-"
"Fighting."
"Talking, Jason."
"Okay." Jason’s playing the piano, because his mom always liked it when he played the piano for her, and he plays when he misses her. He's been playing a lot lately, and sometimes, if he plays loud enough, it’s like she’s not gone. "Talking very loudly," he concedes.
When his dad sighs, Jason presses a little harder on the keys: A sharp, B minor, G, G again. "Jason, I don’t know how to tell you this --" His dad's voice is wrong. Something’s not right.
B, B sharp, F, G, G
"I know Superman is my dad, too." It’s very quiet except for the music. Outside, Jason can see the sun reflecting off the water. He wants to go fishing later today, maybe his dad will take him.
He doesn't know how to say that he's known this for a long time. He didn't mean to keep this from his dad. It just happened. He's sorry.
He's very very sorry.
"You know?" His dad’s words sound like he swallowed something the wrong way.
A sharp, B minor, E flat.
He pushes a little too hard and the key sticks. Or breaks. It won’t move anymore, and there’s this weird tightness in Jason’s chest. He’s not going to cry though, eleven year-old boys don’t cry. "You’re still my dad though, right?"
His dad makes this weird choking noise, and then he’s pulling Jason onto his lap, and eleven and one-half should be too old to sit on your dad’s lap, but Jason doesn’t mind. He doesn’t think he wants to play the piano anymore though.
*
College is not quite how Jason thought it would be. The people are cooler, the food worse, and the classes are actual work.
It’s quite possible that if Jason decided to apply himself he could read everything in the library about Entropy, Band Theory and Acid-Base Equilibria, and then go back and read everything on Numerical Analysis, Quantum Mechanics and Calculus to fill in the gaps, but that would take work, or at the least a couple days. So instead Jason sees Tim twice a week and pretends to know less than he does.
At this rate, it takes him four whole weeks to convince Tim to let him back in the lab, which wouldn’t matter if Tim didn’t have the labs on some sort of lockdown. Every time Jason tries to sneak in Tim magically appears, scowling and getting in his way, until he packs up and leaves.
Eventually, Jason does it just to mess with him.
The first day Tim lets him play in the labs again, Jason's so happy that he totally misses his opening when Tim suggests that Jason's chemistry professor might be blinded by Jason's charms.
In fact, Jason shrugs his shoulders and goes back to timing the rate of change of pH of the contents of the conical flask in front of him.
He's either creating a new rust-remover or an acid that could eat through a bank vault -- he won't know until he tests it on some unsuspecting car owner.
"Jason, are you listening to what I'm saying to you?" Tim seems a bit preoccupied tonight, he keeps looking at the clock like he wants to be somewhere other than with Jason. Jason's not feeling that.
"You have a hot date?" Jason says putting the flask down and brushing back his bangs with his forearm. His hair's getting too long again. "Anybody I know? Should I be jealous?"
"I doubt it." When Tim smirks, his mouth does this thing that makes Jason's dick twitch. To be fair though, everything Tim does makes Jason's dick twitch. It's possible that Tim hardwired Jason while he was asleep, because in the last couple of weeks, every time Tim says 'jump' Jason goes 'how high?'
"You shouldn't doubt me," Jason says pointedly. "I know a lot of people."
"Getting around isn't the same as knowing people," Tim says.
Jason snorts. "Oooh, the shame, it burns."
"With your reputation, if that's all that burns, you're lucky," Tim remarks, leaning against a workstation for a fraction of a second, before realizing what he's doing. Tim's got reflexes like - like the really hot boy he is.
It’s not Jason’s fault he can’t think of a proper simile -- Tim’s sleeves are rolled up and he has nice forearms. Besides, Jason doesn't stare that much. He can't possibly be jealous of someone else. He could have Tim if he really wanted him.
"Don't even think about it." Tim's eying him as though he's reading Jason's mind and that's just creepy.
"You don't even know what I'm thinking about," Jason protests.
"You only ever seem to have two things on your mind -- blowing things up and sex. Also, lab time is over."
"And?" Jason is who he is. He's not going to apologize for that. The idea that it might not be enough isn't even possible.
"And no unsupervised time for you, Mr. Lane."
"Thanks, Mom."
"Don't mention it." Tim's putting books away and tidying up Jason's workstation.
Jason sighs as he pulls off his safety goggles. "Can't I have five more minutes? Please?"
Tim shakes his head, but he's smiling, which is a good thing. "Do you ever think there might be more to life than things that go 'boom' and getting laid?"
"Like what? Romance? Saving babies? Truth, justice, and being an asshole? Spare me."
He doesn't even think about how bitter he sounds until he realizes Tim's staring at him. "You're a real character -- have you seen a shrink about that?"
"I have you," Jason says, smiling toothily when the beaker in his hand begins to fizz purple. "Who needs a shrink?"
*
Every Sunday Jason talks to his grandmother and his father without fail. Every other month he flies home to see them and have Sunday dinner on a prearranged date.
He doesn’t even mind when Clark shows up. Much.
When Jason first got to school this was a big hassle for him. He was hung-over; he was busy; he was sowing his half-alien oats. He just wanted to be free for a little while. He'd finally escaped from Metropolis and Superman and the weirdness, and now they were sucking him back in. Gradually, though, he came to appreciate the phone calls. They never seemed to be too long or too short, just long enough for his dad or grandmother to say hi, and see how he was, if he needed anything, and how'd he do on that Chemistry quiz, and did he get the cookies or the article or the shoes or whatever.
It was the long-distance equivalent of having his hair ruffled, which he doesn't mind so much now. As for the dinners, well, no one can object to his grandma's peanut butter cookies.
*
The thing that Jason likes about being the son of Superman and Lex Luthor and Richard White and Lois Lane is that when he decides to do something he just does it. Except that Tim will not take a hint.
Jason has shown up at Tim's dorm room at random hours for "extra help" wearing his most abused and hole-ridden jeans. He's spilled an entire milkshake all over himself and stripped in the student union during a tutoring session. Jason's even done his homework in advance just to make Tim grin at him and all Tim does is nod his head and move on to the next chapter.
It's driving Jason crazy. In an effort to prove to Tim that he can actually keep it in his pants he's even given up on sex -- it's been three whole weeks and Jason's going to die soon. Either that or he's going to develop carpel tunnel -- he's only half alien after all -- and Tim's not noticing for shit, but someone is.
"I've never seen anyone tie up an assailant with his own shoelaces," a voice says as Jason kicks the listless body below him one more time for good measure.
Jason hates gay bashing. He hates it a lot. He should probably check to see if the guy's still breathing, but right now he doesn't really care.
"I think you broke his jaw," Robin says matter of factly.
Jason just shrugs and brushes his bangs out of eyes. "He had it coming."
"Is that really your call to make?" Robin's right there in all sorts of costumey get up that Jason doesn't want and will never have. He doesn't want to be Clark. He doesn't do this for the attention and the stupid spandex.
"It is when people are being bothered over stupid shit," Jason says bitterly. "Life's hard enough without people fucking you over just because of how you look, or who your parents are, or who you want to take home."
"You shouldn't make it personal." Jason can't see Robin's eyes behind the mask, but Robin can see his.
"It's always personal," Jason spits. "You may not know what that's like, but I do," and then Jason's gone. He tries to keep the flying to a minimum in Gotham because this isn't his home. Clark would probably have a coronary if Jason got caught by the Batman doing this, but fuck Clark. Jason wants his dad. Jason wants his mom. He can hear the bricks rattling around him as he propels along.
According to his dad, there's a bit of a draft when you fly the Jason Express.
Every rooftop is like the other in Gotham, and Jason just sits for a while. He feels tired and doesn't know why. He doesn't get tired normally. Bored always, irritated, of course. He tries to keep the sullen and bitter thing under wraps, because really, this is just his life. Sometimes it doesn't work so well.
He doesn't hear Robin land, but he knows he's there. "You know stalking is against the law," Jason says easily.
"Are you going to arrest me?" Robin is right beside him, and Jason glances at him out the corner of his eye. His first assessment was right about the cape too: it's way too long. Robin should totally be tripping on it.
"I would arrest you, but the Batman would probably be pissed off if I did."
"He's just Batman, not The Batman."
Jason snorts. "We're not on a first name basis, so I'll stick with two names."
Robin perches on the ledge beside him. "Neither are we, and yet here I am."
When Jason turns Robin is eying him curiously. The lenses in his mask are up. Robin has blue eyes. "Jason," he says, "but you can call me, um, Kon."
Robin's mouth quirks. "Kon. Is that short for something?"
"No, not really." Kon-El is a bit much.
Robin's mouth twitches; Jason's never really noticed how nice his mouth is before. It's always been strictly business between them -- except for the flirting. "No superhero name? No Super Flying Boy or Hot Boy or whatever?"
Jason laughs and feels it. It's not a chuckle or a snort, but a full laugh. It feels good. "Hot Boy, huh? Are you hitting on me?"
Robin just shrugs. "Maybe."
Jason blinks. "Huh."
"Would it bother you if I did?"
Jason snorts. "Would it bother me if Robin hit on me. Let me think about that -- uh no."
Robin opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He's concentrating on something and if Jason focuses he can actually hear the tinny transmission. "I have to go." Robin seems almost apologetic. Huh, again.
It's Jason's turn to shrug. "See you around," he says dismissively. He’s not getting excited because a superhero is hitting on him -- that would be so lame. He’s the son of the world’s biggest superhero -- everyone else should pale in comparison. Except that Jason’s not expecting it when Robin leans forward and kisses him.
It even takes him .002 seconds to realize there’s a mouth pressing against his own, and then he’s pushing back, parting his lips to graze Robin’s lower lip with his tongue. Someone makes this noise when their tongues brush against each other, it might be Jason, but who cares, because it’s good, and Jesus, Jason’s kissing Robin.
It would be horrible if Jason's skills chose this exact moment to fail him, so instead of flipping out he distracts himself for time. He brings his hand up slowly, letting the tips of his fingers run along Robin's forearm to his bicep, his nails snagging lightly on the material of Robin's costume, and then along his shoulder to the side of his neck.
Robin's hair is soft and the skin at the nape of his neck is slightly damp. Whether this is from the costume or body heat Jason's not sure, but he wouldn't really mind getting Robin out of said costume and finding out.
Robin kisses leisurely, like the Bat Phone didn't just call him away to stop terrorists from blowing up the Narrows or something equally perilous. It's a little confusing for Jason.
They're making out like, well, like teenagers, and Jason releases a really undignified moan when one of Robin's hands goes from his neck to his chest. It's not his fault because Robin's rubbing these soothing circles down Jason's chest, and Jason is making all sorts of noises that he hasn't made in at least three weeks.
Jason never really thought about whether or not Robin would be good in bed, but now he's rapidly mapping out all sorts of filthy, sweaty images with Robin spread out naked on the roof, with Jason kneeling over him, hands by the side of his head and Robin's feet on his shoulders.
Jason can't even imagine how tight Robin would feel around him, but he certainly intends to find out. Jason plans to explore, mark, and lick every inch of pale skin he can get his greedy hands on.
He wants Robin impaled on his cock and gasping into the Gotham night. He can visualize Robin's knees on either side of his head, his hands on Robin's hips as he guides his cock forward and into Jason's willing mouth.
This is a very strong image. Jason hasn't been this hard in days -- he has to get Robin naked now.
They can have sex on Robin's cape; that would be so fantastically wrong.
And then he's falling backward off the ledge and landing on the rooftop on his back, because he really is that big of a dork.
"Are you okay?" Robin's standing over him, not even bothering to look concerned.
Jason waves him off, even though his dick is protesting loudly. "Go, save somebody, I'm fine."
Robin gives him a wry smile. "Whatever you say, Kon."
*
The summer before his ninth birthday, Jason had his first kiss. It wasn't a real kiss. At least he doesn't think it was. He got it from the daughter of Clark's best friend from high school. Her name was Laura Ross. Her father's name was Pete and her mother's name was Lana.
Jason only remembers these details because it was the first summer in Smallville that he spent with his grandmother. It was really hard at first for Jason to be away from his dad, but every weekend his dad and Clark would come visit and take him swimming.
There weren't a lot of kids for Jason play with at the farm, but his grandmother made a point of finding kids for him to hang out with, because she didn't want him spending all his time playing in the loft by himself. She said it was bad to spend too much time by yourself; she said Jason needed something called 'people skills.' So once a week she would take Jason to the Rosses, where Mrs. Ross would make him pink lemonade and cookies and ask him about Clark, and Mr. Ross would play catch with him and the Rosses eldest son, Cory.
Cory was three years older than Jason, a big boy of twelve, and Laura was a year younger than Jason at eight. The Rosses also had a little girl named Nell, who used to drool a lot and try to ride the family dog like a horse.
The kiss came about by accident as most things in Jason's life tended to, and he doesn't really remember much about how they ended up playing Hide and Seek in the forest, just that all three of them were under specific instructions not to leave the backyard and that they probably left to "explore" when Mrs. Ross was looking after Nell.
The details are hazy, but Jason remembers falling in a pile of leaves and sliding down a hill, and the pain which he'd never experienced before. He remembers the crying and the green sparkling dust on his knees and Laura staying with him while Cory ran for help.
She kissed his knees and said that that was what her mom did when she fell.
And eventually Jason stopped crying even though the sniffling took a little longer, and then there were voices calling his name. Laura ran off to get her mother, because Jason could hear Mrs. Ross not that far away, and it was all going to be okay -- and then Superman appeared.
He picked Jason up, even though he looked a little green himself when he did it, and he bit his lip when he dusted Jason's knees off.
Clark set Jason back on his feet and wiped his tears. "Are you okay?"
Jason sniffed and wiped his nose off on the back of his hand and gave Clark a wobbly smile. "'m okay," he said.
Clark nodded his head. "Okay."
And then Mrs. Ross stepped into the clearing and Clark was gone.
Two years later his dad started sending him to camp in Minnesota.
Part II
Fandoms: Superman Returns/Smallville/Teen Titans
Spoilers: Heavily SR (but not in the way you probably think); SV (Season 1); TT (vaguely)
Rating: Adult (m/m)
Word Count: 22,496
Summary: Remarks like that are his inner Luthor coming out.
Notes: I think I've said plenty. Casting and soundtrack available at the end of the story.
The Way I Was Made
When Jason Lane was small his mother used to read him stories from a big scrapbook of articles she'd collected. The stories were about superheroes: the Flash, the Green Arrow, Wonder Woman, the Batman -- the superheroes that Jason sometimes saw on the news when he was supposed to be in bed, but had somehow convinced his dad to let him stay up ten more minutes to watch. Jason’s mother said she’d started collecting them when she was pregnant with Jason and had never been able to stop, which was why sometimes the newspaper had big holes in it.
Jason's favorite stories were about Superman. His mother didn't read them very often, but sometimes, if he was very good, she would pull out her special red cloth scrapbook and read to him from their yellowing pages.
Superheroes stood for everything that was good and true. They were just and always did the right thing. They never lied about eating all of their lima beans and spitting them into their napkins.
When Jason was six his dad bought him first comic book, Warrior Angel No.147.
When Jason was seven, his mother's friend, Superman, began telling him stories about the Green Lantern and his home planet of Krypton, and how the Justice League worked together to make the world better for children like Jason.
When Jason was eight he learned that everyone had been lying.
*
The first time Jason meets The Robin is in a dark alley that smells of snow overlaid with smog and stale urine. It's the end of January, and judging by the mugger at Jason’s feet who’s wearing four layers of clothing, it's pretty damn cold.
Someone's been watching Jason for a week or two, and at least now, with a glance at the mouth of the alley, Jason knows who it is. With the spandex and the cape and the mask, it couldn’t be anyone else.
"Huh," is Jason’s entire greeting before going back about his business.
One of Jason’s genetic donors is Superman, so even if his mom hadn't gotten him hooked at an early age, Jason would know all about the Batman and his Robins.
The Robin or -- Robin -- doesn't actually introduce himself, but he doesn't interfere with what Jason's doing either, so they're fine.
"Don't you have a real crime to stop?" Jason's only half listening since he's experimenting with a surgeon's knot to tie up the mugger who was trying to rob a senior Tri-Delt.
Jason likes the Tri-Delts: they throw great parties, they have great tits, and they have no problem making out with their sisters for Jason's gratification. They also like having sex in the unisex bathrooms of Royston Hall.
As for the mugger, well, Jason read about the surgeon’s knot on-line when he was looking for random chemistry experiments to try out after hours. Apparently, if you clean up after yourself in the labs when things explode, most people are inclined to look the other way, especially if you’ve had sex with them in the stairwell of Williams Fine Arts Library and their girlfriend doesn’t know about it.
Jason likes to make things explode; Jason also spends a lot of time using his abilities to clean things up.
He has no idea how regular people clean up their messes.
"This isn't a real crime?" Robin asks curiously. His words escape in white puffs as he cocks his head to the side, taking in Jason and the mugger and the alley with imperceptible (to anyone not like Jason) nods. His movements are fluid like a -- well, like a superhero. Obviously. "It sure looks like you're assaulting someone to me."
"He deserved it -- he tried to mug --" There's dirt on Jason's hands, and he brushes it off on the thighs of his jeans. Everyone else wears a costume; Jason depends on people not wanting to look him in the eye.
Body language helps a lot; Clark taught him that.
Robin is playing with something on his belt. Well, maybe "playing" isn't the right word. "The red-head girl that ran off -- I was watching, I know."
Robin has this cape, this really long yellow cape. It drags on the ground as he approaches Jason, but if Jason didn't have superhearing he probably wouldn't be able to hear it. The red spandex is pretty revealing, in a "Hi, I'm really toned and hot, and I know you want to stare" way, but Jason's kind of working right now. The black briefs shouldn't work, but go figure. Jason has no idea why people wear their underwear on the outside of their uniform.
Clark does that and it just looks like he got dressed in a hurry and messed up.
Jason snorts. "All watching and no doing -- wow, I feel safer already."
"I’m sure he feels safer too." Robin gestures at Jason’s feet, and Jason looks down at the trussed up mugger. The mugger's eyes are huge, and it takes Jason a moment to realize that the fear isn't for him, it's for Robin.
"Who doesn’t like being saved by a hot guy in spandex?" Jason mocks. "I know I do."
"Cute," Robin says.
Jason shoots him his brightest, most charming grin. "I know I am." Jason's learned well from his dads. They believe in truth, justice, and being a good man; Jason believes in being charismatic. Apparently he gets that from his other dad.
Robin makes a derisive snort as he shoots something into the dark Gotham sky. "Modest too. You're just the complete package, aren't you?"
Jason can hear the faint 'crack' of a grappling hook entering crumbling brick. He winks. "I don't have all the toys like some people, but I try to get the job done."
"Just be careful," Robin says before taking off.
Jason doesn't want to be impressed, but for someone who doesn't fly, the Robin can certainly make an exit. Jason can’t help it if he’s checking out Robin’s ass.
He’s a college freshman -- it’s what he’s supposed to do.
*
At night Jason tries to do good things, like stopping petty crimes and making sure that his fellow students don't get swallowed up by the Gotham underbelly. He doesn't really care about the soft drug issue since the first person he'd have to arrest is his roommate, Luke.
The vigilante thing isn’t about taking after Clark; Jason's forte is fights and robberies and assault -- beating up women is a big no-no in Jason's book. According to his Psychology class, his sense of fairness is overdeveloped in certain areas.
During the day and partying hours, it's a whole other story.
Gotham is Jason's reward for surviving his childhood; he's earned the right to run away. In fact, he picked Gotham U the moment the college brochure showed up on Riverside Drive, even though he wasn't sure his grades were good enough. Actually, Jason knew his grades weren't good enough, but he wanted this, and so he asked for it. He didn't mention that part to his dad or Clark, but what was the point in having Lex Luthor for an absentee dad if you couldn't e-mail him every now and then and say, "I want this."
Jason's only done this twice.
*
The door to his dorm room is open when Jason gets back to Halston, and Luke's sitting on his bed pretending to read some book the size of his head. Luke grunts at Jason's greeting and goes back to the book in his lap; Jason just raises an eyebrow and pats the top of the TV, which is still warm.
"I know you're not trying to pretend you weren't just watching Sports Center," Jason mocks, kicking his shoes off and dropping into a wooden atrocity that passes for a desk chair.
Jason's never shared a bedroom with anyone, so the first few weeks of living with his roommate were like hell on earth. It had nothing to do with Luke being a bad roommate, and everything to do with Jason thinking that Luke was hot. Being an all-sexual half-alien is sometimes really hard on Jason's hormones, and being stuck in a room the size of a horse stall doesn't help matters.
What does help is that Luke snores like a 300 lb. football player with a deviated septum, is physically incapable of picking up his own clothes, and every time he finishes a can of Zesti he crushes it against his forehead.
Sexual attraction is no match for belching and farting.
Luke actually waits a beat before looking up at Jason, eyes wide with mock surprise. "I have no idea what you're talking about, hermano, can't you see me studying my Japanese?"
The book Luke shows him says Political Science and the New Economy; Jason snickers and points. "Wrong book, man."
"Okay," Luke laughs before dropping the book over the side of the bed. "You got me."
Luke's mom is Guatemalan and his dad is black, and he looks like someone out of a magazine ad. All that translates to is that he likes to curse in Spanish and has a predilection for Shakira and Dead Prez. The first time Jason saw him in his boxers, he set one of his socks on fire. Thankfully, he's gotten over that. Beside, Luke is a genuinely good guy, and Jason doesn't need to mess that up with sex.
"Like that's so tough," Jason says, leaning over to rummage in the top drawer of his dresser/dry good storage for something to eat. Powerbars and ramen, yum. "It's after midnight and you're not stoned or out drinking away brain cells with the rest of your teammates, it must be sports."
Luke flips Jason the bird as he busies himself looking for something in his unmade bed. "Dude, I lost the remote."
Jason laughs. "Because you can't move the four feet to turn on the TV - you're so fucking lazy. Damn."
"Hijo de puta," Luke swears, crawling around and flinging things on the floor. He's wearing blue and green boxers and a red tee shirt, because there are only two temperatures in their room: freezing and sweltering. Luke's outfit clashing is classic superhero. "I'm gonna miss the last five minutes of Sports Center, they were supposed to talk about the German coach resigning."
"What'll you give me if I turn it on?"
"Respect," Luke hollers over his shoulder, his ass directly in Jason's face.
Jason exhales through his nose. "I'm hungry."
"My mom sent some quesadillas," Luke cajoles.
Jason sighs and throws something at the TV to divert from him using his abilities to turn it on. "Happy now?"
Luke whirls around and gives him this grin that's all white teeth. "You're the best slutty food-for-hire roommate a boy could have," he says tossing Jason a Tupperware container.
It's Jason's turn to grin. "Wow, thanks," he says around mouth full of cheese and tortilla.
*
One time Jason died. It was two years ago, but his family don’t like to talk about that. It was something to do with Kryptonian puberty, and Jason being a moody teenage asshole, and not being as strong as he thought he was, even if he’s Superman’s son. Jason doesn't like talking about it, either.
He's alive now, and that's all that matters.
*
Jason hates math.
He thinks it was created just to prove how super he's not. His dad used to quiz him with flash cards when he was little; he said Jason's mom was bad with math too.
Calculus isn't the same as 2 + 2 = 4, though, and Jason's not too sure how he's going to take care of his math requirement without bribery and blackmail.
Remarks like that are his inner Luthor coming out, which is a big joke with his dad, but Clark doesn't really tend to laugh about it very much. When Clark is all uptight, Jason reminds him that he's a genetically created baby, who was implanted in his mom while she was kidnapped on assignment. It took three men and two women just to get him into college.
Jason's bound to be a little warped; Clark should just accept it.
Jason thinks he's pretty sane all things considered. Normal, never, but marginally well-adjusted according to his Freshman Psychology class, which he aced considering he only went five times the entire semester. He's doing pretty awesome -- if he does say so himself -- in his writing class, too, but he would probably be disowned if he couldn't write well.
The class he really likes is Chemistry, and by likes he means he goes because it feeds his desire to make something unique in the world. Every drop of every liquid is a creation of something new, something unknown. Every mixture is fractionally different from the one before it and the one after it, every second is a chance to do something no one has ever done. Or at least make things explode.
Who wouldn’t love a class like that?
Not that the experiments are ever supposed to blow up -- but in learning how to do something right, you have to prove that it's not wrong -- and then after class Professor Bernhardt gets to blow them up because she's in charge.
If Jason could just get Calculus to bow down to him then life would be fantastic, but he’s finally found something he can’t bend, charm, or ignore, which is how he ends up at the Tutoring Center.
The girl at the front desk has pink streaks in her hair, bright blue eye shadow, green nails and she types faster than Clark. The entire time Jason's asking her about getting help, she’s staring at the computer screen.
It’s a sad day when Jason loses out to a computer, and he's not even sure she's listening until she scrawls his name on a message pad and rips it off. "Albertson Hall. 2pm. His name is Tim Drake," she says waving him off. "If you're late, he'll make you sorry."
It's only when Jason gets outside that he realizes it's 1:55, and Albertson is on the other side of campus. He breezes through the front doors at 1:56.
Jason assumes that life without "abilities" must suck.
*
Once upon a time Jason’s mom died in a freak accident in Bahrain. After that his dad got involved with Clark Kent, which was fine with Jason, because two dads were better than one dad and no mom. Except it turned out Jason didn’t just have two dads -- he had three.
*
Jason knows who Tim is the moment he sets foot inside the Albertson Hall lounge; he's the only one who doesn't look up when Jason arrives.
Jason wouldn’t say he’s The Big Man on Campus, but he knows how to get attention. He can set things on fire with his eyes -- that always gets people’s attention.
Tim doesn't even twitch when Jason drops his backpack on the table and clears his throat. That’s just wrong. "Hey, are you Tim?" he asks pushing the note from the message pad across the table.
Tim looks up, gives Jason a once over glance, and then goes back to his book. Jason just raises an eyebrow when Tim kicks out the chair across from him. "You must be my two o'clock, have a seat."
Jason sits down noisily, ignoring a glare from the mousy girl in the corner drowning in Camus. She has that yellow tinge of someone who’s been spending too much time under fluorescent lights. She should get out and enjoy the Gotham smog.
Tim’s hair is clean and shiny, and Jason would say that he's seen Tim around, but he thinks if he had he would remember having hit on him. Jason can't meet someone that looks like Tim and not flirt with him at least a little bit -- dark messy hair, huge eyes, pink mouth.
Presumably, Jason gets his sex drive from his Luthor genes. His dad has only been on a handful of dates since the Clark thing, and Jason can’t even start to think of Clark having sex, because it gives him a pain in his kidneys and a twitch in his eye.
"So, you're my tutor," Jason begins while staring at the exposed hollow of Tim's throat.
Tim's wearing a tee shirt layered over an Oxford, but Jason can see how slender he is. He’s not girlie, he's just not really manly either. He has these long fingers that are absently twirling a pen, but Jason would bet his last packet of Ramen that Tim's never done anything absently in his life.
Tim makes a noncommittal noise, which Jason takes a good sign. At least it's not an unequivocal glare of 'fuck off and die.'
How Jason manages to get laid as much as he does is something of a mystery to everyone around him, especially Bart and Luke. It's not as though Jason's particularly slick; he just makes it work.
Some people act out by doing drugs; Jason has sex.
"It's good to know that you can make an observation. That's a start," Tim says sticking his pen in the spine of his book before closing it. When he finally looks at Jason, it's with a wry smirk on his face. "So, tell me, Jason Conner Lane, what else can you do?"
Jason blinks once. The only person who calls him by his entire name is his grandma, and that's only when he's really messed up. Jason has to squash this urge to use his heat vision on Tim's chair and show him exactly what Jason can do. Sometimes Jason has temper issues. Instead he pushes a stray lock of his hair behind his left ear and gives Tim a grin. "I can make things blow up."
Tim rolls his eyes. "Does that really matter if you can't do the math behind it?"
Jason balances his chair on two legs and smirks. "That's why I have you, right?"
*
Jason only has nightmares sometimes, which is why he makes a point of not spending the night when he has sex, because it's better to be safe than explain the screaming to someone who wouldn't understand anyway. Sometimes he dreams about his mom. Sometimes he dreams about his dad. Sometimes he dreams that Clark never lied, and his mom never died, but he was still just as screwed up anyway.
Apparently this is called ‘having issues.’
*
Jason is already in the lab when Tim arrives. It’s their first lab lesson, which Jason thinks is totally unnecessary, because he can make things blow up fine -- it’s the math thing that’s killing him.
Tim's pretty insistent that it'll be easier for Jason to understand the math if he's has an interactive lesson. He says he wants to see Jason ‘in his element’, so he can figure out how best to work with him. For his part, Jason has plenty of ways for Tim to get to know how he works -- but they have nothing to do with the kind of chemistry you do in the lab.
As far as Jason can tell, there’s no place for calculus in chemistry -- physics sure, chemistry no -- but whatever.
Jason’s a little distracted with a household experiment he looked up on-line. Apparently if you mix ammonia and bleach together you can make something explode. There’d been warnings, but warnings were for pussies and people who could still be grounded.
The fumes are a bit strong, but he’s got his goggles on and he’s under the fume hood. Except that one minute he’s playing Mad Scientist and the next there’s yelling, the fan going on noisily, and Tim’s yanking Jason away from the workstation with one hand and slamming the hood shut with the other. "What the hell are you doing, Lane?"
"Hey! Do you see me working here?" Tim’s knuckles are white in the fabric of Jason’s green shirt, and Jason didn’t realize Tim could get so angry. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are bright. It’s kind of hot.
Jason blinks behind his goggles for time.
"How the hell are you not passed out on the floor?" Tim’s shouting in that quiet way that Jason’s dad does sometimes when Jason really fucks up or scares him. "That stuff is toxic, what the hell are you thinking?!"
Jason blinks again, because well, huh. "I, um -- dunno?"
Tim’s eyes are huge, the irises a thin circle of blue. "Jason, do you have a brain in your head? Jesus Christ, didn’t you read the labels? Have you been paying attention in class at all?"
"Is this a surprise quiz?" Jason offers with a half-smile, but Tim looks so pissed off and so disappointed that Jason’s smile dies off. He almost wants to tell Tim he’s Superman’s kid and this couldn’t harm him in a million years just to get rid of the tightness in Tim’s face. Still, it’s a little early in their relationship for Confessions of a Test Tube Kryptonian.
Tim’s close enough that Jason can feel his breath against his face, and it’s only when he looks down that he realizes Tim’s still holding onto his shirt. "You can let go if you want," Jason says, with a smirk to defuse the situation. "You don’t have to, but I feel like I should give you the option, before I get the wrong idea."
"You are a wrong idea," Tim snaps, but some of the tightness is gone. "Get your stuff together, no more playing for you," he says releasing Jason and stepping back into his own space.
Jason’s frown is only slightly sullen. "You never let me have any fun."
"I’m sure there are a lot of people who are thankful for that and don’t even know it."
Jason narrows his eyes. He left hitting on sophomore gymnasts in the Quad for this?
*
Jason's spent some of his formative years living with his Grandma Martha because Clark and his dad were fighting over, well, everything.
The specifics are a little on the fuzzy side - repression will do that to you -- but he remembers a lot of yelling about Clark being Superman, and Superman sleeping with his mom, and him not telling his dad when his dad was already sleeping with Clark. Over several days that argument became his dad yelling about Clark not being a real dad to Jason, and his name was Jason not Kon-El, and Lex Luthor was a goddamn genetic donor who had no parental rights regardless of what his lawyers said, and it all kind of blew up, because no one in Jason's family does things the easy way.
*
"So, I got myself a tutor," Jason casually mentions to Bart at lunch the next day. "You know, so I can stop failing Calculus."
Jason met Bart first semester in Psychology 101. Bart was the only other person in the class who stayed away for the entire lecture on ‘Martyr Complexes and Modern Day Superheroes.’
"You’re failing Calculus because all you want to do is to blow things up in Chem," Bart points out over his third bowl of something that’s supposed to be spaghetti. Jason knows the real thing; he’s fairly certain that Bart’s eating ketchup with pasta.
"Your point being what?"
Bart makes a noise between shoveling food in his mouth. "I’m not the most intelligent person, but there are plenty of scientific studies that point out that--"
"But you certainly are the hungriest," Jason interrupts.
"There’s nothing wrong with needing a tutor." Bart continues on as though Jason hasn’t said anything. He's the most in control ADHD person Jason's ever met though, so it’s entirely possible that in Bart’s mind they’re a lot further along in the conversation, especially since Bart’s on his dessert now. His second. Jason didn’t even realize he’d finished his fake spaghetti.
"His name is Tim," Jason’s constantly amazed at how someone as small as Bart can put away so much food. "Tim Drake."
Bart actually pauses for a moment and cocks his head to the side. "Tim?"
"You know him?"
"Maybe. That depends on your intentions. Are you planning on sleeping with him and then pissing him off by running out on him?"
"That only happened one time," Jason protests. Who knew petite blondes named Sally could be so vicious?
He's never dating another cheerleader in his life.
"Twice," corrects Bart.
"Oh, yeah." Jason forgot about the murderous closeted hockey player.
"Right."
Jason never told Bart that he was bisexual, but he thinks that Bart’s not that surprised. "So, do you know him?"
Bart’s grin splits his entire face in half. "Yeah, I know Tim -- just not biblically."
Jason rolls his eyes and throws his balled up napkin at Bart’s head. "I never said anything about knowing him biblically."
Bart coughs and bits of food fly out his mouth. It’s gross. Gross but cool. "This is you, Jay, everything with you is about knowing someone biblically."
"I don’t know you biblically," Jason points out.
Bart crosses his arms. "And we’re going to keep it that way, too."
Jason pouts. "Bart, I’m not your type? I think I’m hurt."
Bart rolls his eyes. "Please, a two-by-four couldn’t slow you down."
*
Jason’s sitting at the piano playing something he’s heard on the radio. Or maybe it’s something from TV. He doesn’t think too hard when he plays, he just likes it. It makes him happy. His tutor told him that he's really good for eleven, and if he practices every day maybe he can go to the conservatory. His dad says that if that’s what he wants then they can make it happen. Jason just wants to play.
There’s a little blood on his shirt from playing soldiers with the kids down the street -- he fell out of a tree while scouting -- but he knows the scratch will be gone by tomorrow.
When his dad sits down next to him, Jason changes from the TV commercial music to something older his dad likes. The heat from his dad’s body warms him like the sun streaming through the bay windows, and Jason plays in time with his dad’s breathing.
"So, you’ve probably heard Clark and I talking-"
"Fighting."
"Talking, Jason."
"Okay." Jason’s playing the piano, because his mom always liked it when he played the piano for her, and he plays when he misses her. He's been playing a lot lately, and sometimes, if he plays loud enough, it’s like she’s not gone. "Talking very loudly," he concedes.
When his dad sighs, Jason presses a little harder on the keys: A sharp, B minor, G, G again. "Jason, I don’t know how to tell you this --" His dad's voice is wrong. Something’s not right.
B, B sharp, F, G, G
"I know Superman is my dad, too." It’s very quiet except for the music. Outside, Jason can see the sun reflecting off the water. He wants to go fishing later today, maybe his dad will take him.
He doesn't know how to say that he's known this for a long time. He didn't mean to keep this from his dad. It just happened. He's sorry.
He's very very sorry.
"You know?" His dad’s words sound like he swallowed something the wrong way.
A sharp, B minor, E flat.
He pushes a little too hard and the key sticks. Or breaks. It won’t move anymore, and there’s this weird tightness in Jason’s chest. He’s not going to cry though, eleven year-old boys don’t cry. "You’re still my dad though, right?"
His dad makes this weird choking noise, and then he’s pulling Jason onto his lap, and eleven and one-half should be too old to sit on your dad’s lap, but Jason doesn’t mind. He doesn’t think he wants to play the piano anymore though.
*
College is not quite how Jason thought it would be. The people are cooler, the food worse, and the classes are actual work.
It’s quite possible that if Jason decided to apply himself he could read everything in the library about Entropy, Band Theory and Acid-Base Equilibria, and then go back and read everything on Numerical Analysis, Quantum Mechanics and Calculus to fill in the gaps, but that would take work, or at the least a couple days. So instead Jason sees Tim twice a week and pretends to know less than he does.
At this rate, it takes him four whole weeks to convince Tim to let him back in the lab, which wouldn’t matter if Tim didn’t have the labs on some sort of lockdown. Every time Jason tries to sneak in Tim magically appears, scowling and getting in his way, until he packs up and leaves.
Eventually, Jason does it just to mess with him.
The first day Tim lets him play in the labs again, Jason's so happy that he totally misses his opening when Tim suggests that Jason's chemistry professor might be blinded by Jason's charms.
In fact, Jason shrugs his shoulders and goes back to timing the rate of change of pH of the contents of the conical flask in front of him.
He's either creating a new rust-remover or an acid that could eat through a bank vault -- he won't know until he tests it on some unsuspecting car owner.
"Jason, are you listening to what I'm saying to you?" Tim seems a bit preoccupied tonight, he keeps looking at the clock like he wants to be somewhere other than with Jason. Jason's not feeling that.
"You have a hot date?" Jason says putting the flask down and brushing back his bangs with his forearm. His hair's getting too long again. "Anybody I know? Should I be jealous?"
"I doubt it." When Tim smirks, his mouth does this thing that makes Jason's dick twitch. To be fair though, everything Tim does makes Jason's dick twitch. It's possible that Tim hardwired Jason while he was asleep, because in the last couple of weeks, every time Tim says 'jump' Jason goes 'how high?'
"You shouldn't doubt me," Jason says pointedly. "I know a lot of people."
"Getting around isn't the same as knowing people," Tim says.
Jason snorts. "Oooh, the shame, it burns."
"With your reputation, if that's all that burns, you're lucky," Tim remarks, leaning against a workstation for a fraction of a second, before realizing what he's doing. Tim's got reflexes like - like the really hot boy he is.
It’s not Jason’s fault he can’t think of a proper simile -- Tim’s sleeves are rolled up and he has nice forearms. Besides, Jason doesn't stare that much. He can't possibly be jealous of someone else. He could have Tim if he really wanted him.
"Don't even think about it." Tim's eying him as though he's reading Jason's mind and that's just creepy.
"You don't even know what I'm thinking about," Jason protests.
"You only ever seem to have two things on your mind -- blowing things up and sex. Also, lab time is over."
"And?" Jason is who he is. He's not going to apologize for that. The idea that it might not be enough isn't even possible.
"And no unsupervised time for you, Mr. Lane."
"Thanks, Mom."
"Don't mention it." Tim's putting books away and tidying up Jason's workstation.
Jason sighs as he pulls off his safety goggles. "Can't I have five more minutes? Please?"
Tim shakes his head, but he's smiling, which is a good thing. "Do you ever think there might be more to life than things that go 'boom' and getting laid?"
"Like what? Romance? Saving babies? Truth, justice, and being an asshole? Spare me."
He doesn't even think about how bitter he sounds until he realizes Tim's staring at him. "You're a real character -- have you seen a shrink about that?"
"I have you," Jason says, smiling toothily when the beaker in his hand begins to fizz purple. "Who needs a shrink?"
*
Every Sunday Jason talks to his grandmother and his father without fail. Every other month he flies home to see them and have Sunday dinner on a prearranged date.
He doesn’t even mind when Clark shows up. Much.
When Jason first got to school this was a big hassle for him. He was hung-over; he was busy; he was sowing his half-alien oats. He just wanted to be free for a little while. He'd finally escaped from Metropolis and Superman and the weirdness, and now they were sucking him back in. Gradually, though, he came to appreciate the phone calls. They never seemed to be too long or too short, just long enough for his dad or grandmother to say hi, and see how he was, if he needed anything, and how'd he do on that Chemistry quiz, and did he get the cookies or the article or the shoes or whatever.
It was the long-distance equivalent of having his hair ruffled, which he doesn't mind so much now. As for the dinners, well, no one can object to his grandma's peanut butter cookies.
*
The thing that Jason likes about being the son of Superman and Lex Luthor and Richard White and Lois Lane is that when he decides to do something he just does it. Except that Tim will not take a hint.
Jason has shown up at Tim's dorm room at random hours for "extra help" wearing his most abused and hole-ridden jeans. He's spilled an entire milkshake all over himself and stripped in the student union during a tutoring session. Jason's even done his homework in advance just to make Tim grin at him and all Tim does is nod his head and move on to the next chapter.
It's driving Jason crazy. In an effort to prove to Tim that he can actually keep it in his pants he's even given up on sex -- it's been three whole weeks and Jason's going to die soon. Either that or he's going to develop carpel tunnel -- he's only half alien after all -- and Tim's not noticing for shit, but someone is.
"I've never seen anyone tie up an assailant with his own shoelaces," a voice says as Jason kicks the listless body below him one more time for good measure.
Jason hates gay bashing. He hates it a lot. He should probably check to see if the guy's still breathing, but right now he doesn't really care.
"I think you broke his jaw," Robin says matter of factly.
Jason just shrugs and brushes his bangs out of eyes. "He had it coming."
"Is that really your call to make?" Robin's right there in all sorts of costumey get up that Jason doesn't want and will never have. He doesn't want to be Clark. He doesn't do this for the attention and the stupid spandex.
"It is when people are being bothered over stupid shit," Jason says bitterly. "Life's hard enough without people fucking you over just because of how you look, or who your parents are, or who you want to take home."
"You shouldn't make it personal." Jason can't see Robin's eyes behind the mask, but Robin can see his.
"It's always personal," Jason spits. "You may not know what that's like, but I do," and then Jason's gone. He tries to keep the flying to a minimum in Gotham because this isn't his home. Clark would probably have a coronary if Jason got caught by the Batman doing this, but fuck Clark. Jason wants his dad. Jason wants his mom. He can hear the bricks rattling around him as he propels along.
According to his dad, there's a bit of a draft when you fly the Jason Express.
Every rooftop is like the other in Gotham, and Jason just sits for a while. He feels tired and doesn't know why. He doesn't get tired normally. Bored always, irritated, of course. He tries to keep the sullen and bitter thing under wraps, because really, this is just his life. Sometimes it doesn't work so well.
He doesn't hear Robin land, but he knows he's there. "You know stalking is against the law," Jason says easily.
"Are you going to arrest me?" Robin is right beside him, and Jason glances at him out the corner of his eye. His first assessment was right about the cape too: it's way too long. Robin should totally be tripping on it.
"I would arrest you, but the Batman would probably be pissed off if I did."
"He's just Batman, not The Batman."
Jason snorts. "We're not on a first name basis, so I'll stick with two names."
Robin perches on the ledge beside him. "Neither are we, and yet here I am."
When Jason turns Robin is eying him curiously. The lenses in his mask are up. Robin has blue eyes. "Jason," he says, "but you can call me, um, Kon."
Robin's mouth quirks. "Kon. Is that short for something?"
"No, not really." Kon-El is a bit much.
Robin's mouth twitches; Jason's never really noticed how nice his mouth is before. It's always been strictly business between them -- except for the flirting. "No superhero name? No Super Flying Boy or Hot Boy or whatever?"
Jason laughs and feels it. It's not a chuckle or a snort, but a full laugh. It feels good. "Hot Boy, huh? Are you hitting on me?"
Robin just shrugs. "Maybe."
Jason blinks. "Huh."
"Would it bother you if I did?"
Jason snorts. "Would it bother me if Robin hit on me. Let me think about that -- uh no."
Robin opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He's concentrating on something and if Jason focuses he can actually hear the tinny transmission. "I have to go." Robin seems almost apologetic. Huh, again.
It's Jason's turn to shrug. "See you around," he says dismissively. He’s not getting excited because a superhero is hitting on him -- that would be so lame. He’s the son of the world’s biggest superhero -- everyone else should pale in comparison. Except that Jason’s not expecting it when Robin leans forward and kisses him.
It even takes him .002 seconds to realize there’s a mouth pressing against his own, and then he’s pushing back, parting his lips to graze Robin’s lower lip with his tongue. Someone makes this noise when their tongues brush against each other, it might be Jason, but who cares, because it’s good, and Jesus, Jason’s kissing Robin.
It would be horrible if Jason's skills chose this exact moment to fail him, so instead of flipping out he distracts himself for time. He brings his hand up slowly, letting the tips of his fingers run along Robin's forearm to his bicep, his nails snagging lightly on the material of Robin's costume, and then along his shoulder to the side of his neck.
Robin's hair is soft and the skin at the nape of his neck is slightly damp. Whether this is from the costume or body heat Jason's not sure, but he wouldn't really mind getting Robin out of said costume and finding out.
Robin kisses leisurely, like the Bat Phone didn't just call him away to stop terrorists from blowing up the Narrows or something equally perilous. It's a little confusing for Jason.
They're making out like, well, like teenagers, and Jason releases a really undignified moan when one of Robin's hands goes from his neck to his chest. It's not his fault because Robin's rubbing these soothing circles down Jason's chest, and Jason is making all sorts of noises that he hasn't made in at least three weeks.
Jason never really thought about whether or not Robin would be good in bed, but now he's rapidly mapping out all sorts of filthy, sweaty images with Robin spread out naked on the roof, with Jason kneeling over him, hands by the side of his head and Robin's feet on his shoulders.
Jason can't even imagine how tight Robin would feel around him, but he certainly intends to find out. Jason plans to explore, mark, and lick every inch of pale skin he can get his greedy hands on.
He wants Robin impaled on his cock and gasping into the Gotham night. He can visualize Robin's knees on either side of his head, his hands on Robin's hips as he guides his cock forward and into Jason's willing mouth.
This is a very strong image. Jason hasn't been this hard in days -- he has to get Robin naked now.
They can have sex on Robin's cape; that would be so fantastically wrong.
And then he's falling backward off the ledge and landing on the rooftop on his back, because he really is that big of a dork.
"Are you okay?" Robin's standing over him, not even bothering to look concerned.
Jason waves him off, even though his dick is protesting loudly. "Go, save somebody, I'm fine."
Robin gives him a wry smile. "Whatever you say, Kon."
*
The summer before his ninth birthday, Jason had his first kiss. It wasn't a real kiss. At least he doesn't think it was. He got it from the daughter of Clark's best friend from high school. Her name was Laura Ross. Her father's name was Pete and her mother's name was Lana.
Jason only remembers these details because it was the first summer in Smallville that he spent with his grandmother. It was really hard at first for Jason to be away from his dad, but every weekend his dad and Clark would come visit and take him swimming.
There weren't a lot of kids for Jason play with at the farm, but his grandmother made a point of finding kids for him to hang out with, because she didn't want him spending all his time playing in the loft by himself. She said it was bad to spend too much time by yourself; she said Jason needed something called 'people skills.' So once a week she would take Jason to the Rosses, where Mrs. Ross would make him pink lemonade and cookies and ask him about Clark, and Mr. Ross would play catch with him and the Rosses eldest son, Cory.
Cory was three years older than Jason, a big boy of twelve, and Laura was a year younger than Jason at eight. The Rosses also had a little girl named Nell, who used to drool a lot and try to ride the family dog like a horse.
The kiss came about by accident as most things in Jason's life tended to, and he doesn't really remember much about how they ended up playing Hide and Seek in the forest, just that all three of them were under specific instructions not to leave the backyard and that they probably left to "explore" when Mrs. Ross was looking after Nell.
The details are hazy, but Jason remembers falling in a pile of leaves and sliding down a hill, and the pain which he'd never experienced before. He remembers the crying and the green sparkling dust on his knees and Laura staying with him while Cory ran for help.
She kissed his knees and said that that was what her mom did when she fell.
And eventually Jason stopped crying even though the sniffling took a little longer, and then there were voices calling his name. Laura ran off to get her mother, because Jason could hear Mrs. Ross not that far away, and it was all going to be okay -- and then Superman appeared.
He picked Jason up, even though he looked a little green himself when he did it, and he bit his lip when he dusted Jason's knees off.
Clark set Jason back on his feet and wiped his tears. "Are you okay?"
Jason sniffed and wiped his nose off on the back of his hand and gave Clark a wobbly smile. "'m okay," he said.
Clark nodded his head. "Okay."
And then Mrs. Ross stepped into the clearing and Clark was gone.
Two years later his dad started sending him to camp in Minnesota.
Part II