Custody
PART II. (age 14-16)
~one~
John gets a sword for his fourteenth birthday. And he and Andy also get a trip to Metropolis. It's not London or Paris or Shanghai, but neither John nor Andy had been anywhere outside Gotham. It's a big adventure. John wants to visit everything and Andy wants to go to every museum. And then there is the Planet. The Daily Planet. Practically the only newspaper worth reading, John thinks.
“It's overrated,” Wayne says.
John stops on the pavement and looks at him. Wayne catches up a few seconds later.
“I think my heart just missed a beat,” John says.
“What?”
Andy is snickering. “You cannot mean it,” John answers. “Overrated? My ass.”
“Language, Master John,” Alfred throws in.
John was so right. 'Master John' is used to scold.
“It's the only real newspaper in this town,” John says, ignoring Alfred's scolding.
Wayne sighs. “I hope you don't think about becoming a journalist.”
“He wanted to be Batman when he was younger,” Andy throws in. That traitor.
“Really?” Wayne asks, looking at him.
People are starting to get angry around them, because they’re douchbags blocking the pavement. Wayne doesn't seem to mind or be aware of it. John really has to ask him about that buying a hotel thing one day. If it's true, it would explain so much.
John shrugs. “I was seven. He was beating up the bad guys.” That should explain everything John thinks.
Wayne looks like he wants to say something but then someone bumps into Andy and Wayne is in a flash to his side, so he doesn't fall on his ass.
“Maybe this is not the right place to discuss - anything at all,” Alfred says. He has that disapproving look on his face again.
Wayne sighs. “Fine. The Planet and then we're going to eat something. I am starving.”
John does a small victory dance in his head. He is sure Andy and Alfred know.
~+~
Fencing is really fucking time-consuming, but John loves it. He loves that his muscles ache less and less the more time he spends training. He loves that his head is clear of anything else other than fencing as soon as he grabs the rapier. He knows the steps; it's like dancing, but cooler.
John had been right; he’s not the team-player kind of guy.
He likes to have one opponent, he likes to study them and look for their weaknesses.
He's good at it too.
His mind is quick and agile.
~+~
Andy waits for him on Wednesdays because his poetry seminar or whatever always ends earlier than John's fencing lessons.
John's hair is a mess and he can't find his other sock. Andy sits down and opens a book while John is still looking for his sock like a crazy person. Everyone else is gone already and they're going to be late at the gate again.
“A little help here?” John asks.
Andy puts his book aside and looks at John. “What are we searching for?”
“The Loch Ness monster, I just saw it in the showers,” John answers.
Andy sighs, long-suffering. He perfected that art since he and John became friends all those years ago. “Really? Because I always thought it would be bigger.”
This could totally be a penis joke, John thinks. “My sock, Andy. I’m only wearing one.”
Andy looks at John's feet. “Yep, but the other one is in your back-pocket.”
“What?”
Andy crosses the space between them and grabs for it, holding it right in John's face. “Back-pocket of your pants.”
“I don't even know how it got there.”
“I sure as hell don't either, but I have a theory.”
John raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“You put it there,” Andy answers.
John pulls his sock on and grabs his shoes. “Wow, Sherlock. Call me amazed to the bone.”
“I'm just that good.”
“You could be Batman,” John answers, deadpan.
Andy punches him in the arm. He doesn't punch like a small kid anymore, but it still doesn't hurt.
Much.
“Hurry up. I bet Alfred is waiting already and today is ice-cream Wednesday.”
“Like every Wednesday,” John says, but he does hurry up. He loves getting ice-cream with Alfred and Andy. And if Wayne is in the city they always get him a new flavour too.
~+~
“So, I hear you're getting good at fencing,” Wayne says. John stops in the hall, he was on his way to the kitchen, and turns to lean against the wall, mimicking Wayne who is leaning against the door-frame to his study.
“You talked to Alfred, I am shocked,” John says.
Wayne smiles. “I see him around sometimes. It's like he lives here or something.”
John smiles back. He has no idea how long Wayne is going to stay this time, but he's going to make the best of it. “You didn't say you would come back today. We would've brought you ice-cream.”
“I forgot that it's ice-cream Wednesday here,” Wayne replies. “Andy still here?”
“Alfred is driving him home now. You'll have to make your own coffee and sandwich.”
“Despite the rumours, I am able to do that,” Wayne says.
“I’ll believe that one when I see it,” John answers, unfolding from the wall. “I was on my way to the kitchen anyway.”
“Watch and learn kid.”
“Alfred did teach you, didn't he?”
“I am the master of the sandwich, John,” Wayne replies.
~+~
They end up eating sandwiches in the kitchen. John still isn't allowed any kind of coffee, because of some reasons he doesn't get at all, but Alfred insists. Alfred doesn't insist on many rules, so John tries to follow those that Alfred does make.
“When did he allow you to drink coffee?” John asks, taking a sip of tea.
“I was sixteen.”
“You're kidding, right?”
“Not one bit. Sixteen.”
“That is - what kind of rule is that?”
“Alfred's. I bet he has his reasons. He always has good reasons for doing things.”
“And you don't?” John asks.
Wayne takes a careful sip of his coffee. He is stalling or thinking it over, John isn't sure. “Sometimes I do things because I want to.”
Like adopting me? John wants to ask, but he bites his tongue. Wayne sure as hell had his reasons back then. John shouldn't be so keen on figuring them out. This is a good home for him. No one tries to make him someone else. He is John Blake and that is the only thing he has to be here.
“Everyone sometimes does things because they want to,” John answers.
“I guess that's true.”
~two~
Andy gets his girlfriend kinda by accident. John has no real idea how it happened. Especially as they are spending all their time together.
John isn't surprised Andy has a girlfriend. He is kinda surprised Andy gets to have a significant other before John. Which is stupid as John doesn't want a girlfriend or whatever.
~+~
“It's not like in the movies I made you watch,” Andy says, his feet dangling in the water of the pond/pool, what-the-heck-ever, in the garden. It's a hot day for September. The grass is tickling between John's toes.
Alfred is in the kitchen making something delicious and Wayne is away again. John talked to him via phone just the other day, but it's not the same. At least there will be some awesome candy when Wayne comes back.
“How is it then?” John asks. He is curious about it. He likes to know things, likes to assess situations before he goes in.
“Like hanging out with you actually.”
“With the kissing or without?”
“With,” Andy answers and after a while: “I told her about you.”
John needs a second to get to the meaning. “That you're kissing me all the time?” He grins.
Andy leans his head on John's shoulder. His skin feels warm and his body soft. “Yeah. She doesn't think it's weird.”
“Because it's not.”
“It maybe wasn't when we were kids, but now I am not so sure,” Andy says.
John wonders if someone said something to Andy again. John always wants to break people's noses when he hears shit like that. Maybe that is the reason why Andy doesn't tell him every single thing. Maybe it's for the best too.
“I don't mind. And if you don't mind, why the hell should we care about other people?”
“Hmm.”
“And your girlfriend doesn't mind either. You have really no reason to worry,” John answers. “Also: does that mean you don't want to marry me for Wayne's money anymore?”
“It's like he's my sugar-daddy too, practically,” Andy replies with a smile.
Wayne is not. But sometimes he feels like a distant relative. “I wish he was home more often,” John says.
“You told him that, genius?”
“What? No.”
“Why not? Maybe he will be home more often if you tell him you miss him. It can't be that hard.”
“He's not you,” John says and is aware that any other person (except for Alfred maybe) would ask what that even means. Andy doesn't, because he doesn't have to.
“That's kinda the point,” Andy answers. “Him being him, him being an adult you can trust and who can care - who cares for you.”
“I have Alfred. He is the adult I trust not to screw me over,” John says. It's the truth too. Not that he doesn't trust Wayne, because if you can't trust Batman to do the right thing, who else can you trust? But Alfred is there for him, was there for him. Alfred was the one who got him from the orphanage.
“Wayne wouldn't screw you over. And look at me, I’m using 'Wayne' now too,” Andy sighs.
“That's his name,” John replies, but he knows exactly what Andy means. “So, tell me more about what's-her-name.”
“Lindsey.”
~+~
John and Lindsey have shared custody. John is very aware of it; even no one said it out loud.
“John,” Alfred asks. “Will Master Andy be here on Friday?”
“I don't know. It's the second Friday of the month. Probably not. He's going to the movies with Lindsey.” Andy says he doesn't have a plan, or timetable, but John can make out a pattern here.
“Maybe he could bring Miss Lindsey with?” Alfred suggests.
“Has this house seen a woman in the last fifty years?” John jokes.
“There was Mrs Wayne, of course, Miss Rachel and a string of women I don't recall the names of.”
“A string of women, hmm?” John asks.
Alfred looks at him hard as he puts a cupcake (strawberry) on the table in front of John. “A string of women. Master Wayne was-”
“Busy?” John suggests.
Alfred smiles. “Busy, before he realised he liked Miss Rachel. They were childhood friends.”
“Cute,” John answers. It is in a way.
“They were,” Alfred says.
“You think he will date again?” John wants to know.
“I don't know John. I wish he would.”
“Because it would be good for him?”
“Yes.”
~+~
John isn't so sure about the dating. Andy is a true friend, but even Andy has only so much time on his hands and half of it is eaten away by Lindsey. Even when they do stuff together - and John likes Lindsey, she can kick ass at Mario - it's not the same. Andy and Lindsey have inside jokes and all kinds of stories to tell John, because John wasn't there. It's strange.
And now if Wayne should get a girlfriend he would have even less time to spend with John. And Wayne isn't home half the year. John gets roughly six months with interruptions and with a girlfriend in the calculation he would get three.
Not really something John looks forward too.
On the other hand: Alfred thinks it would be good for Wayne to get out and meet people, meet women. Probably to have conversations with someone roughly his age.
And sex.
John has no illusions. Wayne is a guy and a rich, good-looking guy on top, there is no way people wouldn't want to sleep with him. Women, he corrects. John isn't going to assume anything, but there is no evidence that Wayne is anything other than straight. John draws his conclusions from what he knows.
~+~
“I hear Andy has a girlfriend,” Wayne says.
“No hello?” John answers.
“Hello, John. So I hear Andy has a girlfriend.”
John sighs and pours Wayne a mug of tea. Wayne sits down at the kitchen table. “Did you wait up?” Wayne asks as he takes the mug John proffers.
John didn't. Maybe. Probably, John didn't. “You said you would be home late tonight.”
“Yes, but that doesn't mean you have to be there to welcome me,” Wayne answers.
“I know,” John says, he hopes the implied 'I wanted to' comes across, along with the 'Duh'.
“Wanna tell me all about Andy's girlfriend? Funny you didn't mention her on the phone.”
“It slipped my mind,” John answers, because it had slipped his mind. When he was on the phone with Wayne, all he wanted to talk about was what Wayne was doing, and Wayne in return wanted to hear all about his adventures. There wasn't really much room for other people - or time. Except Alfred. But John knows Wayne talks to Alfred on a regular basis.
“Really,” Wayne says taking a sip of tea.
“Yeah. And it's too late anyway to catch you up on seven weeks of life here,” John answers and gets Wayne's full attention in return.
“Do you want me to be here more often?”
John does, but admitting that seems like a weakness. On the other hand: Wayne. “Yeah, that would be nice. Alfred would like that too.”
“Yeah, Alfred would,” Wayne answers and his fingers twitch on the table like he wants to do - something. But he and Wayne aren't that kind of people. They don't really touch.
“You could watch me fence,” John says to break the moment.
“I could fence with you,” Wayne answers with a smile.
“Or that.”
~three~
Things are going pretty well, John thinks. Wayne is staying home more often and Alfred is a lot happier.
“You too,” Andy says.
“What?”
“You are happier too since Wayne is staying home. He wasn't on a business-trip for five weeks now. Around that time he always itches to get away again.”
“Yeah,” John says, because he had figured out that pattern too. Years ago.
“So, are you guys bonding over shit now?”
“Like what?” John asks.
“Like fencing and swords, and did you tell him you want that knife for your next birthday?”
“I did not. Wayne has a thing about weapons.”
“You can cut carrots with it too,” Andy says.
John laughs. “Yeah, but I don't think he's gonna go for it.” Even if John thinks it's a pretty good argument.
“You think you get a car for your sixteenth?”
“No idea. He could afford it, but I know I get the permission to drink coffee on that sweet day,” John says.
Andy laughs. “No one would know if you would drink it at my place.”
“I respect Alfred,” John says.
Andy nods. “I know.”
John likes that he doesn't have to explain shit to Andy.
~+~
Wayne is really good at fencing and John is not surprised.
“So, you learned this with the ninjas while you were all 'Seven years in Tibet'?” John asks from the floor where he collapsed a few minutes ago. Needless to say John did not win this round - or the other five.
Wayne is breathing harder too. At least John got him going. He might not be that good or experienced at it, but he is still young. He is sure he will be able to beat Wayne one sunny day. Or rainy, the weather doesn't really matter. It will be a sweet day nevertheless.
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Wayne says taking a sip of water.
“Yeah, right. I know you've been soul-searching while younger. Fresh out of university?”
“Did Alfred gossip again?” Wayne asks, but he's smiling.
“Alfred would never. I don't need Alfred to find out shit about you. I have a laptop.”
“Ah, the internet, it will be my downfall one day,” Wayne answers.
John takes a sip of his own water - straight from the bottle like a proper fourteen year old. Well, soon to be fifteen. It could be already, but Wayne has a shitload of resources and money to cover his tracks. John wonders if Mister Fox is in on it. Probably.
“You have a wiki page.”
“I do?”
“Yeah and a fanclub.”
“Really?”
“It's all crazy women who want to have your babies,” John rolls his eyes.
“I don't want to have children with crazy women. Besides I already have you.”
Something warm pools in John's stomach or around his heart or whatever. He takes another sip of water to cover it up.
“You probably shouldn't Google yourself anyway,” John says after a while.
“I will keep that in mind. Do people even Google themselves?”
“People like me? No. People like you? Hell yes,” John answers.
Wayne looks at him. “What does that mean? Are you implying I'm vain?”
“Not you, but people who are famous, or rich, or you know best, from both worlds: rich and famous.”
“At least I'm not famous.”
“Ha!” John says. “You are pretty fucking high on that 'Bachelor' list.”
“Why are you even reading that?” Wayne asks and he sounds like he really wants to know.
John is thinking about lying or changing the subject, but they are building something here and John wants to be a part of it.
“I wonder if you will date one day and maybe marry.”
“I don't know. I don't think so. I don't want any other kids, John,” Wayne answers earnestly. He takes a step closer and then stops, looking kind of clueless as what to do.
Thing is, John thinks, he would really like a hug now, but they aren't that kind of people. He is sure Alfred was the only one allowed to hug Wayne after his parents were killed and for John it only ever had been Andy. This here is brand new territory.
John takes a deep breath and looks Wayne in the eyes. “We could shake on it like the men and damaged goods we are,” he says getting up from the floor, “or we could try to hug for once?” He doesn't mean for it to sound like a question, but it comes out like one anyway.
Wayne doesn't say anything, but he takes another step and John meets him halfway without being really aware that he moved at all.
The hug feels awkward at first.
“I'm not good at this,” Wayne says.
“You just need practice,” John answers and buries his head in Wayne's sweaty shirt.
~four~
Alfred makes him pancakes the next morning with a knowing glint in his eyes.
“You've seen us,” John says as he's trying to cramp half a pancake at once into his mouth.
Alfred sighs at the sight of syrup running down John's chin. John grins.
“Yes. I am glad you and Master Bruce are getting along better now.”
“You mean, you're glad we're getting our shit together,” John corrects.
Alfred smiles. “Language, Master John.”
John nearly rolls his eyes, but takes another bite of his pancakes instead. They are delicious. John needs to ask for the recipe - one day.
“He didn't hug much as a kid, did he?”
“There is only so much love that will be accepted by Master Bruce,” Alfred answers.
John thinks Wayne is a douche for making Alfred feel like this. Alfred raised Bruce and loved him like a son. Still loves him like his own child.
“He's bad at it. I mean, I am bad at it, but I have Andy, always had Andy, or you know, since they put me into the orphanage. Andy just didn't care for my walls.”
“Ah,” Alfred says. “And do you care for Master Bruce's?”
“Not sure I should,” John answers. “I think he needs someone to hug him from time to time. I mean why else get a kid? Even one that is so damaged?”
“You are not damaged,” Alfred says.
John nods, but he knows it's not true. John doesn't trust people easily. He doesn't care for close relationships either, because he has issues from here to Japan. Wayne is the same. After all John has been living at the Manor for almost three years now, and that last evening was their first hug for god's sake.
Well, he thinks, at least that shows there is still hope for them both.
“Not more than Wayne,” John answers eventually.
Alfred gives him a look that says he would like to object, but he has really no ground here. They both know Wayne has issues and is pretty messed up. John isn't sure Alfred knows that John is aware that Wayne is Batman. Because Wayne is still Batman, no matter that he isn't out there now hunting down the scum. You can't change something like that just because you shelf away the cowl.
~+~
Sometimes John wonders where Wayne shelved that cowl. It can't be in the Manor. John knows the Manor by now like he knows the pockets of his pants. He knows the gardens too. Most of them, anyway. The rest isn't too interesting. He read about the Manor. It had burned down and was rebuilt basically from scratch.
It has a big basement and a wine cellar and beneath that old tunnels. Alfred told him about Wayne’s history on a few occasions and it came up. Too dangerous to go down there, Alfred had said and John had believed him, but now he wonders if Alfred simply wanted to keep him away from the old tunnels for another reason, not only his safety.
John would love to check that out.
But not during the cold and damp autumn season. He looks outside: it pours for hours now and he feels like he will crawl out of his skin any second now.
~+~
“I'm bored,” John says from the doorway to the library and waits for Wayne to close his book and look at him.
“I hear the internet is full of wondrous and scary things,” Wayne replies with a small smile.
“It is, but it just won't do on some days.”
“I guess this is one of those rare days,” Wayne answers; it's only half a question.
John nods. “Are you busy?” It's not a real question, because when Wayne is busy and doesn't want to be disturbed he works in his study and not the library. On the other hand, it could be a really good book he's been reading before John announced that he's bored.
“Not really. What do you want to do?”
“Something to occupy my mind.”
Wayne thinks for a bit and John waits him out. “Chess?”
“Never played,” John answers stepping into the library.
“I think you will like it.”
“Explain the rules then.”
~+~
John does like chess. It makes his brain work for its money. Wayne doesn't let him win, which is a good thing in John's book.
“I learned it from my father, but Alfred is a very good player too,” Wayne says.
“Have to make him practice with me, so I can beat you next time,” John answers grinning.
“Or,” Wayne says not looking at John, playing with a white piece instead (of course Wayne has the black pieces), “we could make this a weekly thing?”
More bonding time with Wayne is a good thing in John's book, too. “I would like that,” he answers.
~+~
“Chess, hmm?” Andy says.
“It keeps my mind occupied,” John answers shrugging.
“That brain of yours will explode one day. It's constantly thinking.”
“That's what brains do and besides, you are one to talk.”
Now Andy's the one shrugging. “Can't help it. Art is a good outlet for all the shit in my head.”
Sometimes John thinks Andy should talk about it now that they're older. But he isn't going to make Andy talk. Other people have tried and got bitten for it (literally). Andy might be John's best friend because John didn't ever try to make him talk about the time before he came to the orphanage and because he didn't mind Andy hugging and kissing the living hell out of him. He liked it. When he's honest he still likes it that Andy is so affectionate with him. Andy is one of the people John believes in. The other are Alfred and Batman. Batman will always have a special place in John's heart, even if he knows now that Batman is a human being like the rest of them. With flaws and a heart that can be hurt. Had been hurt.
“One day you will be famous.”
“Not sure about that, but I guess it would be nice to be able to go to an art-school?”
“I'm sure Wayne will pay for it.”
“I'm going to try and get a scholarship,” Andy answers.
“You don't have to,” John says.
“I know, but I want to. I want to make it on my own, if that makes sense?”
John nods. He gets it. “If they should be too stupid to see how genius you are, you can still hit us up.”
Andy laughs. “Hit you up, really, now John?”
“Whatever,” John answers. “But I mean it. We will pay for it.”
“I like the sound of that,” Andy remarks.
“Hmm?”
“You said 'we',” Andy answers.
“Oh? Well, three years in that house will do that to a guy, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Andy says, leaning his head on John's shoulder.
~five~
When John looks at himself he doesn't see the twelve-year old scrawny kid anymore. He's bigger; his muscles developed nicely with all that fencing, he's still slim, but not thin. He thinks he likes what he sees in the mirror.
“Fifteen,” John says to his reflection. He doesn't feel any different than yesterday when he was still fourteen. But it's another year, another birthday at the Manor and some kind of testimony that John is going to stay here. That this is John's home; no matter how unusual it may look to other people.
John knows that some people think: Why him? John could tell them, but he doesn't think they would understand, because they don't understand Wayne. Don't understand John.
John and Wayne are the same, different, but the same.
“Fifteen,” he says again and smiles at his reflection.
~+~
“One more year and I’m going to have one of these too,” John says sitting down at the kitchen-table, nodding to Wayne's mug of coffee. They never really eat in the dining room. The kitchen is the place to be, John thinks. The kitchen is where the food is and Alfred and now more often than not Wayne too.
“Fifteen,” Wayne says and doesn't ask if he feels any different.
“Yeah. One more year and then the delicious first cup of coffee in the morning will be mine.”
Alfred pours him tea and slides the rolls over. Wayne hands him the butter. “What? No cake?”
Alfred sighs. “You are not twelve anymore.”
“What kind of argument is that?” John asks. “Wayne is eating cake for breakfast. He sure as hell isn't twelve anymore.”
Alfred looks at Wayne long-suffering. “Fine, in the fridge. Your favourite.”
“That horrible German thing?” Wayne asks.
“Please say yes, please say yes...” John chants under his breath.
“Black Forest gateau”, “Alfred says.
“Yes!” John jumps up and rounds the table to get to the fridge. And there it is in all its heavy, delicious glory. “I like the German name for it. It looks pretty written.”
“You will not eat it alone,” Alfred says.
“Andy and Lindsey will come over later. Wayne doesn't want any of this,” John answers distracted. He takes the gateau out and puts it on the counter. Alfred made it himself; he can see it in the slight imperfection of the decoration. John loves Alfred he thinks and realises that it really is true. Not everyone would bake him this monster chocolate cake, especially when it would be easier to buy one. He cuts a big piece and puts it on his plate. “You can have my cinnamon-roll, Wayne,” he adds.
“How very generous of you,” Wayne replies.
“That's me,” John says, shrugging like he doesn't care either way, but he knows cinnamon is Wayne's favourite.
Wayne really can't fool him.
~+~
“Three years and you still call him Wayne?” Lindsey asks taking another piece of John's cake. Woman can eat a horse without gaining any weight, John thinks meanly. Just a bit meanly.
“It's his name,” John stresses.
“I would call him Bruce,” Lindsey answers.
“You will call him Mister Wayne like everyone else,” John says.
She sticks her tongue out like a five year old. John rolls his eyes.
“I told him to call Wayne daddy,” Andy throws in.
“Urgh, that sounds so wrong. No offence, but he really doesn't look like dad-material.”
“How does he look then?”
“Like bed-slave material,” Lindsey answers.
Andy laughs. John has no idea what to even say to that.
“You are not a member of his fanclub and secretly snapping pics with your phone?” he says eventually.
“No, I'm not,” Lindsey answers.
John thinks she looks shifty at best. “I will check your phone and delete all the pictures of the house,” he says.
She sighs. “I wasn't going to post them.”
“I don't even want to know what you wanted them for,” John says holding his hand out for the cell phone.
She hands it over. “Better not to know, trust me.”
Women, John thinks, are scary, even if they aren't real women yet, but girls. The female species is scary. Period.
There is only one picture of the house on the phone and it's one of him and Andy curled up on the sofa during a movie.
“Oh,” John says.
“Well, yeah...” Lindsey shrugs. She looks uncomfortable, but John can't figure out why. He thinks they look cute together. Comfortable in each other's space.
“You can keep that,” John says, handing the phone back.
“I won't put pictures of the house or you or Mister Wayne on the internet,” Lindsey says.
John feels a bit like a dick for even mentioning it, because Andy and her are an item, for months now, and he never saw anything on that website (he still checks it once a month or so, just to see how crazy people are).
He cuts her another piece of cake as an apology.
~+~
John doesn't get that knife he wanted so badly for his birthday, but he gets a new rapier which is cool too.
“So, do I get a car and a big ass party next year with all my friends?”
“All two of them?” Wayne asks.
“It's not about quantity but quality when it comes to friends,” John answers.
Wayne nods. “Very true and wise for your years.”
“Ha ha,” John says.
“I mean it John. You are wise and smart and all a parent could want-”
“And I have a shiny big bag of issues on top,” John interrupts.
“Perfection,” Wayne says, “is a very, very boring thing.”
“Ah, so you chose me because I wasn't boring and you were bored with your life?” John has no idea why he even said that. What the fuck? He swore to himself he would never ask why Wayne chose him. The thing is that he really wants to know.
“I wasn't bored with my life,” Wayne answers.
“Right.”
Wayne looks at him and his fingers twitch on the table like he wants to reach out and maybe grasp John's hand. They're still awkward as hell around each other, especially when it comes to affection and personal space. Touching seems like a hurdle sometimes too big to master unharmed.
“You saw me,” Wayne settles on.
John has no idea what he means, except maybe Wayne means that he knew as he looked at Wayne, that something inside John recognised a part inside Wayne that John could relate to. Maybe Wayne felt the same.
“You saw me,” John says and the moment feels really heavy. “And you didn't run,” he adds to lighten the mood, but it doesn't work.
“You didn't either.”
“I didn't know it was you. When I saw Alfred for the first time I had no idea he worked for you. I didn't know who adopted me. They didn't tell me. I was just taken away, shipped-”
“I'm sorry,” Wayne interrupts and reaches out so his fingertips touch John's. John looks down at their hands and holds his breath for a few seconds for no good reason. Wayne's touch is still new and kind of exciting. John is sure it will fade with time and become familiar.
“Why was this so very hush-hush?” John asks, still staring at their fingers.
Wayne takes a deep breath; John can hear it, before he speaks. “I wasn't sure it would work out.”
John flinches and wants to pull away. It was a possibility, of course. It always is. Wayne was only covering his bases; everyone would do that, before signing the papers that will chain you to another being forever.
Wayne grabs his hand in a too tight hold. “Not because of you, John. Because of me. Rachel had just died and I was...” he trails off.
And suddenly John gets it: Wayne had needed a purpose and saw it in John. It was not what John had wanted to hear, but it was the truth and that counted for something.
“Okay,” John says and then: “I'm glad it did work out.”
“I am too,” Wayne answers.
~six~
John has a few people he doesn't call friends he likes to hang out with. Mostly they're from his martial arts classes. They hang out during free periods and after school when Alfred is late or in the car when Alfred drops one or two of the guys off at home.
Alfred always looks hopeful when John asks if he can go hang out with someone else than Andy after school. John knows Alfred wants a million friends to make John's life a blast, but the thing is that, even if John is good with people, can nearly work with everyone, he doesn't like them that much. He is totally comfortable and content with Andy and Lindsey and at home Alfred and Wayne. He doesn't need anyone else.
~+~
“Is that weird?” John asks Andy.
It's too cold to be outside, but they're doing it anyway. Andy huddles into the blanket and looks out onto the gardens. “No, some people are just that way, but don't you want to be with someone?”
“Like you are with Lindsey?”
“Yeah, like that. I mean, don't you like anyone at school? Or at least find them attractive?”
John takes a sip of hot tea and thinks about it. He doesn't think so. He can say he finds a few people attractive at school, a girl from his fencing class looks really great and two guys from his martial arts classes too, but does he want to have sex with them? He seriously doesn't think so.
“No, not really.”
“So, what do you think about, who do you think about, when you jerk off?” Andy asks. He sounds genuine curious.
If it were anyone else John would tell them to fuck the hell off, but it's Andy. “No one in particular.”
“Strangers?”
“No, it's more like faceless people doing stuff to each other.”
“Not you?” Andy asks, he turns a bit to look at John.
“No, sometimes I'm at the fringes watching, but mostly I'm not even there.”
“So, you like invent your own personal porn with faceless people?” Andy asks.
John nods. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty accurate,” he answers and looks at Andy, who is frowning. “You think it's weird.”
“No, I don't think anything is weird at all as long as it gets you off and doesn't hurt anyone. But me and Lindsey we think about people. Specific people.”
“Each other?”
“Well, yes, obviously, but sometimes other people too.”
“Never thought about real people,” John says.
“Well, everyone is different.”
~+~
It's true that everyone is different, but John wonders if he's messed up somehow. He stalked some sex-blogs and websites with message-boards. Most people fantasize about people they know or celebrities or even random strangers they saw on the bus.
It doesn't work for John. He just can't imagine himself with someone he saw on a bus or in a café or in a magazine. That's why John doesn't have a single Playboy under his bed.
When he lies down and tries to think about someone he knows the only people that come to mind are Andy and Lindsey and that seems just wrong.
~+~
“Okay,” Andy says on their way to the school-gates. Alfred is going to be late and they're going to hang out at the book store and wait for him.
“What?”
“You are being weird.”
“Thanks.”
“I don't mean it that way. Just you want to talk about it, but don't know how?”
“I don't know if I should,” John answers. He puts his hands in the pockets of his jacket and walks straight ahead. It's ten minutes to the book store. He could get it off his chest by the time they reach it. And if Andy should be mad he could take the bus back to the orphanage as the bus station is close by.
“Ah, okay. Try then. I promise-”
“Don't promise anything,” John interrupts.
“You're freaking me out,” Andy says.
John takes a deep breath. “So remember our conversation about jerking off the other day?”
“Yeah?”
“I tried to think of someone from a magazine or school, but it just didn't work. I can't imagine myself with strangers, but it worked with you and Lindsey,” John says.
And nods. “Kinda makes sense.”
“What?”
“I mean, you have so many issues with trust and being left behind and of course you wouldn't get off on someone you can't trust not to screw you over. And me and Lindsey we wouldn't.” Andy reaches out and tugs on John's hand so he can link their gloved fingers and squeezes his hand. “It's fine. I'm not mad. I am sure Lindsey wouldn't be mad either. She thinks you cleaned up nicely.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Andy smiles. “It's fine. You can think about us doing wicked things to you all you want.”
John buries his face in his scarf. What the fuck? But he's smiling.
~+~
The surprising thing for John is that he does think about them from time to time. He doesn't set out to do it when he lies in bed, but somehow it happens anyway.
He catches himself sometimes watching Lindsey dance or leaning over and kissing Andy's cheek and wonders. He probably shouldn't, but it's still there.
John would like to know how it would be with a person he likes and trusts, but is very aware that that kind of commitment won't be found in a 15 year old. No way in hell.
~+~
“So, you're gonna stay unkissed for god only knows how many years to come?” Lindsey asks. John wonders when exactly they got to the point where he is okay with discussing his sex-life, or lack thereof with her.
“Show me that unique snowflake person who is willing to date me for at least six months without screwing it up, so we can kiss or whatever and I will go out with them.”
“Them, hmmm?”
“I'm not interested in genders,” John says, because it's true. He is interested in people, or not. John is pretty messed up.
“But you like Andy?”
“Well, duh,” John says.
“And me?” Lindsey continues.
“Yeah, you're a good person.”
“I try,” she answers, looking at him hard. “I do think you cleaned up nicely. All that fencing and stuff, maybe,” she cocks her head.
John is not thinking about what she might be implying here. “Thanks.”
“I would make out with you,” Lindsey declares.
“Thanks?”
“It's not-” she sighs. “I discussed that with Andy, you know? You are our friend and we love you and we don't want you to be unkissed when you’re 27 or whatever.”
“You want to make out with me out of pity?” John asks. He is not exactly appealed. Maybe a bit.
“Can't speak for Andy, but I would make out with you because I think you're hot and because my boyfriend doesn't mind if it's you.”
“Aren't you guys a bit too young to be already bored with your sex-life?” John says.
She slaps him. “Stop joking. It's cool if you don't want to, but if we should ever be with someone else, it would be you,” she answers. “Because we love you John.”
Yeah, John thinks, he loves them too, but it's not really the kind of love where you want to be with the person every single day and night and miss them to the point of depression when they're not there and where every touch seems like something special. A freaking miracle.
~+~
“So, John,” Wayne says, playing with a pawn. He isn't meeting John's eyes, that's how John knows this won't be a nice, calm game. This will be a TALK.
“Yeah?”
“Andy and Lindsey been together for more than half a year already,” Wayne says.
“Yeah,” John answers.
“Do you have someone you like?”
John looks at him then. “Is this your awkward way to have The Talk?”
“I never had the talk before with anyone, except Alfred and - just no. I'm not going there. So, yeah?”
“I don't need The Talk,” John answers. “I know where babies come from.”
“It's not only about that. I know that it's covered in health-class and probably on a million blogs, but I want you to know that it's okay to be with someone you like, or even someone you only find attractive. I won't judge either way.”
“Because you were busy with a string of women back when you were young?”
Wayne keeps silent for a few seconds. “You and Alfred are way too close.”
John shrugs. “We aren't judging either. But I'm not that kind of person.”
“What does that mean?” Wayne wants to know. He puts the pawn on the table and looks directly into John's eyes. John takes a moment to think over what he wants to say. What he wants to reveal.
“I am not interested in strangers.”
“All people are strangers at first. Alfred and I were strangers at first, and Andy and Lindsey.”
“Yes, but they aren't anymore and -” he sighs, frustrated, because it's just so hard to explain this. This is how he feels. Can't that be enough? “Why can't it be enough that I don't want to be with someone now?”
“I am not pressuring you in going out, John! I am just curious about your life.”
“I don't date anyone. I don't want to date anyone and I am not sleeping around with strangers and even if I would, I would always use protection. Can we drop that now?” Suddenly John feels angry for no good reason with Wayne. He doesn't want to think about it all anymore. He doesn't want for Wayne to think John is a freak, but that ship has sailed already.
“Yes,” Wayne says.
~+~
John is thinking about it the whole evening. He just can't explain to himself why he was so angry all of a sudden with Wayne. Wayne only wants to be a part of John's life. John wants that too. He likes to talk to Wayne, likes to fence and have lazy breakfast discussions on Saturdays. All that awesome stuff that they're doing: John likes it.
He wanted Wayne to be home more often and Wayne is and they are on their way to be a family, or whatever.
It's only natural that Wayne would want to know if John is seeing someone. Every parent that cares for their child would.
Maybe it's because John doesn't have anyone, doesn't want anyone. Maybe it's strange, but that is how John is and Wayne should know that by now. Wayne should understand and respect that.
John sighs, looking at the ceiling. No answers there, not surprising.
~+~
Wayne is still awake when John knocks on his bedroom door. He hasn't been in there ever before, but the whole thing, the whole conversation wouldn't let him sleep.
“Come in,” Wayne says. John is sure he knows it isn't Alfred.
John takes a deep breath and opens the door. Wayne isn't even in bed; he's sitting on the sofa, a book close by.
John closes the door and stands there awkwardly. He has no idea what to do. “Sorry for-” he waves his hand and Wayne nods. Smiling a little.
“No, really. I was still awake. I'm a night-person.”
No shit, John thinks. “I figured.”
“So? Want to sit down?” Wayne asks.
John looks around. There is a chair by the dresser and then there is the empty space on the big ass couch. John still wants to take the chair, which is stupid.
“Yeah, thanks,” he says crossing the room to sit down at the very end of the couch. He tugs his feet under him and doesn't quite look at Wayne's face.
Wayne waits him out. “I have issues,” John says.
“Everyone has issues.”
“Yeah, I know, but I mean with people. I have issues with trusting people. I don't like to feel exposed,” John says and he feels exposed as hell right now.
“You don't have to explain to me-”
“Yes, I do. You want me to. I know you care and want to be part of my life, but this is my life. You and Alfred and Andy and Lindsey. This is my life. There is no one else. I am not sure there ever will be anyone else,” John cuts him off. He needs to get it out all in one.
Wayne is silent for a long moment and John balls his hands to fists, waiting. If Wayne was hoping for grandchildren or what-the-heck-ever, well, he'll be disappointed as hell.
“What about Andy?” Wayne asks eventually.
“What?” John turns his head sharply to look at Wayne.
“Andy, do you like him? You are with him all the time and you like boys?” It's a very tentative question.
“I like people. Certain people only,” John says. He still has no idea how to talk about this with Wayne, who is his parent on paper, but is in no way like a parent should be. Alfred is the parent in this house. John has no idea what the hell Wayne is in this constellation. Maybe something like an older brother?
Wayne nods. “Andy?”
“For god's sake! What does it matter?” John explodes. He gets up and paces the bedroom.
“It doesn't. I just thought maybe you want to talk about it now, because you're here in the middle of the night.”
Which is a very reasonable assumption. John sighs. “I am not in love with Andy.”
“Oh, okay. You two seemed so close,” Wayne answers.
“We are and I love him and I really like Lindsey, but this is not-” he stops and then settles on, “it. Me and Andy aren't you and Rachel.”
Wayne seems to flinch and John feels a bit like a dick for bringing her up.
“I know.”
“I didn't mean it in a bad way,” John says. He slings his arms over his chest and stares at the wall. “This was a bad idea.”
“No,” Wayne says, getting up and stepping slowly closer. “I'm glad you feel comfortable enough to try and let me be a part of your inner-life.” He stops in front of John and John looks slowly up and into Wayne's face. He looks tired and like he has no idea what the hell he's doing. Well, John thinks that makes two of them. John uncurls and Wayne takes it as the permission it is to pull him into a hug.
Wayne's arms around him are still exciting, feel still new. He pushes a bit closer and buries his nose in Wayne's shirt, inhaling his scent. This, he thinks, is where he wants to be.
~seven~
John doesn't think much about sex in general. And he sure as hell tries not to think about Andy or Lindsey, or Andy and Lindsey in that context, but now that she offered, that they offered, well. Truth is John has never been kissed before and he's going to be sixteen in five months.
~+~
After martial arts class is over the guys (more often than not) are joking around about sex and making out and their girlfriends. John keeps silent, because what the hell would he even say?
“So, John?” Timothy asks. John likes Timothy. As much as he likes anyone who isn't Andy, Alfred or Wayne, or Lindsey.
“Hmm?” he answers distracted.
“What about you? Girlfriend?”
“Nah,” Eggert throws in. John knows Eggert only listens when you call him by his last name, but then when his parents would've called him Mogli, he would go by his last name only too. “He's with that art-dude. That one with the ace comics.”
“Andy?” John asks.
“If that's the one, yeah. I can't remember his name. Small, on the pudgy side with reddish-blond hair?”
“Andy,” John states. “He has a girlfriend.”
“What?”
“Lindsey. That girl that hangs out with us? That's her.”
“The scary one?” Timothy asks.
John thinks about it and then smiles. “Yeah, that would be her. She writes the story-lines for Andy's comics.”
“Dude,” Eggert says. He sounds awed.
John knew people would see the genius that is Andy. One day. That day seems to be today. At least for Eggert.
“Well, yeah,” John says shrugging.
“So, you don't have anyone?” Timothy asks.
“No.”
“Would you want to,” Timothy bites his lip and then mumbles something.
“I didn't catch that.”
“He's asking you out,” Eggert says.
“What?” Because no one has ever asked John out. Not even tried.
“It's cool if you don't, you know, like guys or whatever...” Timothy trails off.
“I do like guys,” John says, because he does and he's big on honesty, when he can afford it. And in this case he can.
“Oh, okay?”
“I just don't-” John has no idea what to say. He looks at Timothy and then nods. “Okay.”
~+~
“Dude!” Andy says.
“I know.”
“Dude.”
“I know,” John says again. “He is not my boyfriend,” he adds just to be clear on that one.
“I know,” Andy answers. “But look at you. All grown up and going out on a date.”
“I'm going to stab you if you tell anyone,” John warns.
“You won't because you love me.”
Too true, John thinks. “Still, I don't want to get anyone's hopes up or whatever.” Truth is for some reason he doesn't want to tell Wayne.
“It'll be fine. At least you’ve known him for some time now.”
John doesn't think it can be called knowing someone if you only see a person once a week, and your interaction consists of 'hello', and something about a school report, during the five minutes you change your clothes in a room full of other guys. But John always knew he had other standards for these things. On the other hand Andy isn't totally in the wrong; Timothy is not a complete stranger.
“Don't tell anyone,” John says again.
“I promise.”
“Not even Lindsey and tell her to stop proposing a threesome,” John says.
“She doesn't. We aren't-” Andy waves his hand in a vague gesture. “Only like handjobs.”
Urgh, John thinks. He so didn't need that mental image.
~+~
John doesn't tell anyone, and no one except Andy knows, but he still feels like he somehow fails Alfred and Wayne by telling Timothy that it just doesn't work only after a few weeks. John feels too pressured into the whole thing, even he knows that they are taking it real slow and John gets that Timothy wants to hold hands or kiss goodbye or hello or whatever. John, well, John just isn't there yet and he doesn't think he will be any time soon.
It took him and Wayne nearly three years for an awkward as hell hug. But the hugs are getting so much better with practice and they still feel brand new, like that first time. It makes John feel warm and safe and loved.
~+~
“You are not a hopeless case,” Andy says.
John feels like he is on some days, but on most he doesn't care. He has the people he loves in his life and everything he could want is provided. He just has to ask. He doesn't ask often for things. The good thing about Wayne is that he just somehow knows when John really wants something.
“I know. I don't care. I mean, me and Timothy are friends, and well, he'll get over the crush. It's not like we were dating long.”
“Seven weeks and not even a kiss,” Andy says.
“It didn't feel right.”
Andy nods like he gets it, but John knows Andy is worried for John too. Knows Andy wants all the things he has for John. “I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy. I know it's a different kind, a different definition, but I am happy. Here with Alfred and you and Lindsey,” he says. “And Wayne.”
“Never really thought this could work out in the beginning, you know?” Andy says.
“Yeah, I think no one really did, but I had a feeling it could.”
Andy raises an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yeah. Something about Wayne, you remember the first time he came to the orphanage?”
“Yeah.”
“I felt like I knew him back then,” he shrugs. It's hard to explain.
“I can't say I get what you mean, but I am glad it worked out. Not only for you, for me too. Alfred is the best person ever. Imagine never even knowing him.”
John shakes his head. He can't imagine it anymore. Alfred is too much a part of his life.
~+~
“What do you want for your sixteenth birthday?” Wayne asks casually. John's birthday is still three months away, but no one knows if Wayne will be there then. He might be on a business trip. So.
“I don't know. I don't need anything.” Which is the truth.
“It's not about needing something, it's about wanting something.”
What John wants he can't have. He wants to spend his birthday with Wayne doing awesome things the whole day long.
“A car would be practical,” John allows.
“A car?”
“Yeah. Something not flashy.”
“You mean you want, what, a Ford?”
“Yeah? Something small and normal.”
“Cheap, you mean.”
“If you like that word better,” John answers. He doesn't need expensive gifts. He doesn't even need a Ford. He has Alfred. He's sure he won't even be using the car that often anyway.
“I can afford something -”
“It was never about the money. I didn't stay because you’re rich, or because you were never there in the first place. I like it here. This is my home. You should know that by now, Wayne.”
Wayne nods, there is a smile playing around his lips. John likes seeing Wayne smile. John likes seeing Wayne happy.
John likes making Wayne happy, he realises. “I make you happy,” he says and even to his own ears it sounds surprised.
“Yes, you do,” Wayne answers and grabs his hand on the table to squeeze it. He does that more often now. Random acts of affection. John likes them all. The hair ruffling, the hugging, the hand grabbing. Something that could be called 'cuddling' on the sofa. It all tells John he is welcome here, he is loved.
And he wants to make sure now that Wayne knows the feeling is mutual. He should know, John thinks, but then Wayne is as messed up as John is and sometimes he needs to hear the words.
~+~
John knows that Wayne doesn't visit his parent's graves on the anniversary of their death. He visits the ruin of the theatre instead. He's seen it happen three times already. Well, more like he's seen Wayne leave on that day and asked Alfred.
“So, can I come with, or do you want to be alone?” John asks at breakfast. This year the obit falls on a Saturday.
“Come with where?”
“To that theatre. The ruin. Where your parents were killed,” John answers.
“Why would you want to come?”
“Because they were your parents and you're hurting and you don't need to do this alone. But you can.”
Wayne looks at him like he can't believe John is real. It makes John uncomfortable and proud. “Thank you John.”
“Any time,” John answers.
part 3
~one~
John gets a sword for his fourteenth birthday. And he and Andy also get a trip to Metropolis. It's not London or Paris or Shanghai, but neither John nor Andy had been anywhere outside Gotham. It's a big adventure. John wants to visit everything and Andy wants to go to every museum. And then there is the Planet. The Daily Planet. Practically the only newspaper worth reading, John thinks.
“It's overrated,” Wayne says.
John stops on the pavement and looks at him. Wayne catches up a few seconds later.
“I think my heart just missed a beat,” John says.
“What?”
Andy is snickering. “You cannot mean it,” John answers. “Overrated? My ass.”
“Language, Master John,” Alfred throws in.
John was so right. 'Master John' is used to scold.
“It's the only real newspaper in this town,” John says, ignoring Alfred's scolding.
Wayne sighs. “I hope you don't think about becoming a journalist.”
“He wanted to be Batman when he was younger,” Andy throws in. That traitor.
“Really?” Wayne asks, looking at him.
People are starting to get angry around them, because they’re douchbags blocking the pavement. Wayne doesn't seem to mind or be aware of it. John really has to ask him about that buying a hotel thing one day. If it's true, it would explain so much.
John shrugs. “I was seven. He was beating up the bad guys.” That should explain everything John thinks.
Wayne looks like he wants to say something but then someone bumps into Andy and Wayne is in a flash to his side, so he doesn't fall on his ass.
“Maybe this is not the right place to discuss - anything at all,” Alfred says. He has that disapproving look on his face again.
Wayne sighs. “Fine. The Planet and then we're going to eat something. I am starving.”
John does a small victory dance in his head. He is sure Andy and Alfred know.
~+~
Fencing is really fucking time-consuming, but John loves it. He loves that his muscles ache less and less the more time he spends training. He loves that his head is clear of anything else other than fencing as soon as he grabs the rapier. He knows the steps; it's like dancing, but cooler.
John had been right; he’s not the team-player kind of guy.
He likes to have one opponent, he likes to study them and look for their weaknesses.
He's good at it too.
His mind is quick and agile.
~+~
Andy waits for him on Wednesdays because his poetry seminar or whatever always ends earlier than John's fencing lessons.
John's hair is a mess and he can't find his other sock. Andy sits down and opens a book while John is still looking for his sock like a crazy person. Everyone else is gone already and they're going to be late at the gate again.
“A little help here?” John asks.
Andy puts his book aside and looks at John. “What are we searching for?”
“The Loch Ness monster, I just saw it in the showers,” John answers.
Andy sighs, long-suffering. He perfected that art since he and John became friends all those years ago. “Really? Because I always thought it would be bigger.”
This could totally be a penis joke, John thinks. “My sock, Andy. I’m only wearing one.”
Andy looks at John's feet. “Yep, but the other one is in your back-pocket.”
“What?”
Andy crosses the space between them and grabs for it, holding it right in John's face. “Back-pocket of your pants.”
“I don't even know how it got there.”
“I sure as hell don't either, but I have a theory.”
John raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“You put it there,” Andy answers.
John pulls his sock on and grabs his shoes. “Wow, Sherlock. Call me amazed to the bone.”
“I'm just that good.”
“You could be Batman,” John answers, deadpan.
Andy punches him in the arm. He doesn't punch like a small kid anymore, but it still doesn't hurt.
Much.
“Hurry up. I bet Alfred is waiting already and today is ice-cream Wednesday.”
“Like every Wednesday,” John says, but he does hurry up. He loves getting ice-cream with Alfred and Andy. And if Wayne is in the city they always get him a new flavour too.
~+~
“So, I hear you're getting good at fencing,” Wayne says. John stops in the hall, he was on his way to the kitchen, and turns to lean against the wall, mimicking Wayne who is leaning against the door-frame to his study.
“You talked to Alfred, I am shocked,” John says.
Wayne smiles. “I see him around sometimes. It's like he lives here or something.”
John smiles back. He has no idea how long Wayne is going to stay this time, but he's going to make the best of it. “You didn't say you would come back today. We would've brought you ice-cream.”
“I forgot that it's ice-cream Wednesday here,” Wayne replies. “Andy still here?”
“Alfred is driving him home now. You'll have to make your own coffee and sandwich.”
“Despite the rumours, I am able to do that,” Wayne says.
“I’ll believe that one when I see it,” John answers, unfolding from the wall. “I was on my way to the kitchen anyway.”
“Watch and learn kid.”
“Alfred did teach you, didn't he?”
“I am the master of the sandwich, John,” Wayne replies.
~+~
They end up eating sandwiches in the kitchen. John still isn't allowed any kind of coffee, because of some reasons he doesn't get at all, but Alfred insists. Alfred doesn't insist on many rules, so John tries to follow those that Alfred does make.
“When did he allow you to drink coffee?” John asks, taking a sip of tea.
“I was sixteen.”
“You're kidding, right?”
“Not one bit. Sixteen.”
“That is - what kind of rule is that?”
“Alfred's. I bet he has his reasons. He always has good reasons for doing things.”
“And you don't?” John asks.
Wayne takes a careful sip of his coffee. He is stalling or thinking it over, John isn't sure. “Sometimes I do things because I want to.”
Like adopting me? John wants to ask, but he bites his tongue. Wayne sure as hell had his reasons back then. John shouldn't be so keen on figuring them out. This is a good home for him. No one tries to make him someone else. He is John Blake and that is the only thing he has to be here.
“Everyone sometimes does things because they want to,” John answers.
“I guess that's true.”
~two~
Andy gets his girlfriend kinda by accident. John has no real idea how it happened. Especially as they are spending all their time together.
John isn't surprised Andy has a girlfriend. He is kinda surprised Andy gets to have a significant other before John. Which is stupid as John doesn't want a girlfriend or whatever.
~+~
“It's not like in the movies I made you watch,” Andy says, his feet dangling in the water of the pond/pool, what-the-heck-ever, in the garden. It's a hot day for September. The grass is tickling between John's toes.
Alfred is in the kitchen making something delicious and Wayne is away again. John talked to him via phone just the other day, but it's not the same. At least there will be some awesome candy when Wayne comes back.
“How is it then?” John asks. He is curious about it. He likes to know things, likes to assess situations before he goes in.
“Like hanging out with you actually.”
“With the kissing or without?”
“With,” Andy answers and after a while: “I told her about you.”
John needs a second to get to the meaning. “That you're kissing me all the time?” He grins.
Andy leans his head on John's shoulder. His skin feels warm and his body soft. “Yeah. She doesn't think it's weird.”
“Because it's not.”
“It maybe wasn't when we were kids, but now I am not so sure,” Andy says.
John wonders if someone said something to Andy again. John always wants to break people's noses when he hears shit like that. Maybe that is the reason why Andy doesn't tell him every single thing. Maybe it's for the best too.
“I don't mind. And if you don't mind, why the hell should we care about other people?”
“Hmm.”
“And your girlfriend doesn't mind either. You have really no reason to worry,” John answers. “Also: does that mean you don't want to marry me for Wayne's money anymore?”
“It's like he's my sugar-daddy too, practically,” Andy replies with a smile.
Wayne is not. But sometimes he feels like a distant relative. “I wish he was home more often,” John says.
“You told him that, genius?”
“What? No.”
“Why not? Maybe he will be home more often if you tell him you miss him. It can't be that hard.”
“He's not you,” John says and is aware that any other person (except for Alfred maybe) would ask what that even means. Andy doesn't, because he doesn't have to.
“That's kinda the point,” Andy answers. “Him being him, him being an adult you can trust and who can care - who cares for you.”
“I have Alfred. He is the adult I trust not to screw me over,” John says. It's the truth too. Not that he doesn't trust Wayne, because if you can't trust Batman to do the right thing, who else can you trust? But Alfred is there for him, was there for him. Alfred was the one who got him from the orphanage.
“Wayne wouldn't screw you over. And look at me, I’m using 'Wayne' now too,” Andy sighs.
“That's his name,” John replies, but he knows exactly what Andy means. “So, tell me more about what's-her-name.”
“Lindsey.”
~+~
John and Lindsey have shared custody. John is very aware of it; even no one said it out loud.
“John,” Alfred asks. “Will Master Andy be here on Friday?”
“I don't know. It's the second Friday of the month. Probably not. He's going to the movies with Lindsey.” Andy says he doesn't have a plan, or timetable, but John can make out a pattern here.
“Maybe he could bring Miss Lindsey with?” Alfred suggests.
“Has this house seen a woman in the last fifty years?” John jokes.
“There was Mrs Wayne, of course, Miss Rachel and a string of women I don't recall the names of.”
“A string of women, hmm?” John asks.
Alfred looks at him hard as he puts a cupcake (strawberry) on the table in front of John. “A string of women. Master Wayne was-”
“Busy?” John suggests.
Alfred smiles. “Busy, before he realised he liked Miss Rachel. They were childhood friends.”
“Cute,” John answers. It is in a way.
“They were,” Alfred says.
“You think he will date again?” John wants to know.
“I don't know John. I wish he would.”
“Because it would be good for him?”
“Yes.”
~+~
John isn't so sure about the dating. Andy is a true friend, but even Andy has only so much time on his hands and half of it is eaten away by Lindsey. Even when they do stuff together - and John likes Lindsey, she can kick ass at Mario - it's not the same. Andy and Lindsey have inside jokes and all kinds of stories to tell John, because John wasn't there. It's strange.
And now if Wayne should get a girlfriend he would have even less time to spend with John. And Wayne isn't home half the year. John gets roughly six months with interruptions and with a girlfriend in the calculation he would get three.
Not really something John looks forward too.
On the other hand: Alfred thinks it would be good for Wayne to get out and meet people, meet women. Probably to have conversations with someone roughly his age.
And sex.
John has no illusions. Wayne is a guy and a rich, good-looking guy on top, there is no way people wouldn't want to sleep with him. Women, he corrects. John isn't going to assume anything, but there is no evidence that Wayne is anything other than straight. John draws his conclusions from what he knows.
~+~
“I hear Andy has a girlfriend,” Wayne says.
“No hello?” John answers.
“Hello, John. So I hear Andy has a girlfriend.”
John sighs and pours Wayne a mug of tea. Wayne sits down at the kitchen table. “Did you wait up?” Wayne asks as he takes the mug John proffers.
John didn't. Maybe. Probably, John didn't. “You said you would be home late tonight.”
“Yes, but that doesn't mean you have to be there to welcome me,” Wayne answers.
“I know,” John says, he hopes the implied 'I wanted to' comes across, along with the 'Duh'.
“Wanna tell me all about Andy's girlfriend? Funny you didn't mention her on the phone.”
“It slipped my mind,” John answers, because it had slipped his mind. When he was on the phone with Wayne, all he wanted to talk about was what Wayne was doing, and Wayne in return wanted to hear all about his adventures. There wasn't really much room for other people - or time. Except Alfred. But John knows Wayne talks to Alfred on a regular basis.
“Really,” Wayne says taking a sip of tea.
“Yeah. And it's too late anyway to catch you up on seven weeks of life here,” John answers and gets Wayne's full attention in return.
“Do you want me to be here more often?”
John does, but admitting that seems like a weakness. On the other hand: Wayne. “Yeah, that would be nice. Alfred would like that too.”
“Yeah, Alfred would,” Wayne answers and his fingers twitch on the table like he wants to do - something. But he and Wayne aren't that kind of people. They don't really touch.
“You could watch me fence,” John says to break the moment.
“I could fence with you,” Wayne answers with a smile.
“Or that.”
~three~
Things are going pretty well, John thinks. Wayne is staying home more often and Alfred is a lot happier.
“You too,” Andy says.
“What?”
“You are happier too since Wayne is staying home. He wasn't on a business-trip for five weeks now. Around that time he always itches to get away again.”
“Yeah,” John says, because he had figured out that pattern too. Years ago.
“So, are you guys bonding over shit now?”
“Like what?” John asks.
“Like fencing and swords, and did you tell him you want that knife for your next birthday?”
“I did not. Wayne has a thing about weapons.”
“You can cut carrots with it too,” Andy says.
John laughs. “Yeah, but I don't think he's gonna go for it.” Even if John thinks it's a pretty good argument.
“You think you get a car for your sixteenth?”
“No idea. He could afford it, but I know I get the permission to drink coffee on that sweet day,” John says.
Andy laughs. “No one would know if you would drink it at my place.”
“I respect Alfred,” John says.
Andy nods. “I know.”
John likes that he doesn't have to explain shit to Andy.
~+~
Wayne is really good at fencing and John is not surprised.
“So, you learned this with the ninjas while you were all 'Seven years in Tibet'?” John asks from the floor where he collapsed a few minutes ago. Needless to say John did not win this round - or the other five.
Wayne is breathing harder too. At least John got him going. He might not be that good or experienced at it, but he is still young. He is sure he will be able to beat Wayne one sunny day. Or rainy, the weather doesn't really matter. It will be a sweet day nevertheless.
“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Wayne says taking a sip of water.
“Yeah, right. I know you've been soul-searching while younger. Fresh out of university?”
“Did Alfred gossip again?” Wayne asks, but he's smiling.
“Alfred would never. I don't need Alfred to find out shit about you. I have a laptop.”
“Ah, the internet, it will be my downfall one day,” Wayne answers.
John takes a sip of his own water - straight from the bottle like a proper fourteen year old. Well, soon to be fifteen. It could be already, but Wayne has a shitload of resources and money to cover his tracks. John wonders if Mister Fox is in on it. Probably.
“You have a wiki page.”
“I do?”
“Yeah and a fanclub.”
“Really?”
“It's all crazy women who want to have your babies,” John rolls his eyes.
“I don't want to have children with crazy women. Besides I already have you.”
Something warm pools in John's stomach or around his heart or whatever. He takes another sip of water to cover it up.
“You probably shouldn't Google yourself anyway,” John says after a while.
“I will keep that in mind. Do people even Google themselves?”
“People like me? No. People like you? Hell yes,” John answers.
Wayne looks at him. “What does that mean? Are you implying I'm vain?”
“Not you, but people who are famous, or rich, or you know best, from both worlds: rich and famous.”
“At least I'm not famous.”
“Ha!” John says. “You are pretty fucking high on that 'Bachelor' list.”
“Why are you even reading that?” Wayne asks and he sounds like he really wants to know.
John is thinking about lying or changing the subject, but they are building something here and John wants to be a part of it.
“I wonder if you will date one day and maybe marry.”
“I don't know. I don't think so. I don't want any other kids, John,” Wayne answers earnestly. He takes a step closer and then stops, looking kind of clueless as what to do.
Thing is, John thinks, he would really like a hug now, but they aren't that kind of people. He is sure Alfred was the only one allowed to hug Wayne after his parents were killed and for John it only ever had been Andy. This here is brand new territory.
John takes a deep breath and looks Wayne in the eyes. “We could shake on it like the men and damaged goods we are,” he says getting up from the floor, “or we could try to hug for once?” He doesn't mean for it to sound like a question, but it comes out like one anyway.
Wayne doesn't say anything, but he takes another step and John meets him halfway without being really aware that he moved at all.
The hug feels awkward at first.
“I'm not good at this,” Wayne says.
“You just need practice,” John answers and buries his head in Wayne's sweaty shirt.
~four~
Alfred makes him pancakes the next morning with a knowing glint in his eyes.
“You've seen us,” John says as he's trying to cramp half a pancake at once into his mouth.
Alfred sighs at the sight of syrup running down John's chin. John grins.
“Yes. I am glad you and Master Bruce are getting along better now.”
“You mean, you're glad we're getting our shit together,” John corrects.
Alfred smiles. “Language, Master John.”
John nearly rolls his eyes, but takes another bite of his pancakes instead. They are delicious. John needs to ask for the recipe - one day.
“He didn't hug much as a kid, did he?”
“There is only so much love that will be accepted by Master Bruce,” Alfred answers.
John thinks Wayne is a douche for making Alfred feel like this. Alfred raised Bruce and loved him like a son. Still loves him like his own child.
“He's bad at it. I mean, I am bad at it, but I have Andy, always had Andy, or you know, since they put me into the orphanage. Andy just didn't care for my walls.”
“Ah,” Alfred says. “And do you care for Master Bruce's?”
“Not sure I should,” John answers. “I think he needs someone to hug him from time to time. I mean why else get a kid? Even one that is so damaged?”
“You are not damaged,” Alfred says.
John nods, but he knows it's not true. John doesn't trust people easily. He doesn't care for close relationships either, because he has issues from here to Japan. Wayne is the same. After all John has been living at the Manor for almost three years now, and that last evening was their first hug for god's sake.
Well, he thinks, at least that shows there is still hope for them both.
“Not more than Wayne,” John answers eventually.
Alfred gives him a look that says he would like to object, but he has really no ground here. They both know Wayne has issues and is pretty messed up. John isn't sure Alfred knows that John is aware that Wayne is Batman. Because Wayne is still Batman, no matter that he isn't out there now hunting down the scum. You can't change something like that just because you shelf away the cowl.
~+~
Sometimes John wonders where Wayne shelved that cowl. It can't be in the Manor. John knows the Manor by now like he knows the pockets of his pants. He knows the gardens too. Most of them, anyway. The rest isn't too interesting. He read about the Manor. It had burned down and was rebuilt basically from scratch.
It has a big basement and a wine cellar and beneath that old tunnels. Alfred told him about Wayne’s history on a few occasions and it came up. Too dangerous to go down there, Alfred had said and John had believed him, but now he wonders if Alfred simply wanted to keep him away from the old tunnels for another reason, not only his safety.
John would love to check that out.
But not during the cold and damp autumn season. He looks outside: it pours for hours now and he feels like he will crawl out of his skin any second now.
~+~
“I'm bored,” John says from the doorway to the library and waits for Wayne to close his book and look at him.
“I hear the internet is full of wondrous and scary things,” Wayne replies with a small smile.
“It is, but it just won't do on some days.”
“I guess this is one of those rare days,” Wayne answers; it's only half a question.
John nods. “Are you busy?” It's not a real question, because when Wayne is busy and doesn't want to be disturbed he works in his study and not the library. On the other hand, it could be a really good book he's been reading before John announced that he's bored.
“Not really. What do you want to do?”
“Something to occupy my mind.”
Wayne thinks for a bit and John waits him out. “Chess?”
“Never played,” John answers stepping into the library.
“I think you will like it.”
“Explain the rules then.”
~+~
John does like chess. It makes his brain work for its money. Wayne doesn't let him win, which is a good thing in John's book.
“I learned it from my father, but Alfred is a very good player too,” Wayne says.
“Have to make him practice with me, so I can beat you next time,” John answers grinning.
“Or,” Wayne says not looking at John, playing with a white piece instead (of course Wayne has the black pieces), “we could make this a weekly thing?”
More bonding time with Wayne is a good thing in John's book, too. “I would like that,” he answers.
~+~
“Chess, hmm?” Andy says.
“It keeps my mind occupied,” John answers shrugging.
“That brain of yours will explode one day. It's constantly thinking.”
“That's what brains do and besides, you are one to talk.”
Now Andy's the one shrugging. “Can't help it. Art is a good outlet for all the shit in my head.”
Sometimes John thinks Andy should talk about it now that they're older. But he isn't going to make Andy talk. Other people have tried and got bitten for it (literally). Andy might be John's best friend because John didn't ever try to make him talk about the time before he came to the orphanage and because he didn't mind Andy hugging and kissing the living hell out of him. He liked it. When he's honest he still likes it that Andy is so affectionate with him. Andy is one of the people John believes in. The other are Alfred and Batman. Batman will always have a special place in John's heart, even if he knows now that Batman is a human being like the rest of them. With flaws and a heart that can be hurt. Had been hurt.
“One day you will be famous.”
“Not sure about that, but I guess it would be nice to be able to go to an art-school?”
“I'm sure Wayne will pay for it.”
“I'm going to try and get a scholarship,” Andy answers.
“You don't have to,” John says.
“I know, but I want to. I want to make it on my own, if that makes sense?”
John nods. He gets it. “If they should be too stupid to see how genius you are, you can still hit us up.”
Andy laughs. “Hit you up, really, now John?”
“Whatever,” John answers. “But I mean it. We will pay for it.”
“I like the sound of that,” Andy remarks.
“Hmm?”
“You said 'we',” Andy answers.
“Oh? Well, three years in that house will do that to a guy, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Andy says, leaning his head on John's shoulder.
~five~
When John looks at himself he doesn't see the twelve-year old scrawny kid anymore. He's bigger; his muscles developed nicely with all that fencing, he's still slim, but not thin. He thinks he likes what he sees in the mirror.
“Fifteen,” John says to his reflection. He doesn't feel any different than yesterday when he was still fourteen. But it's another year, another birthday at the Manor and some kind of testimony that John is going to stay here. That this is John's home; no matter how unusual it may look to other people.
John knows that some people think: Why him? John could tell them, but he doesn't think they would understand, because they don't understand Wayne. Don't understand John.
John and Wayne are the same, different, but the same.
“Fifteen,” he says again and smiles at his reflection.
~+~
“One more year and I’m going to have one of these too,” John says sitting down at the kitchen-table, nodding to Wayne's mug of coffee. They never really eat in the dining room. The kitchen is the place to be, John thinks. The kitchen is where the food is and Alfred and now more often than not Wayne too.
“Fifteen,” Wayne says and doesn't ask if he feels any different.
“Yeah. One more year and then the delicious first cup of coffee in the morning will be mine.”
Alfred pours him tea and slides the rolls over. Wayne hands him the butter. “What? No cake?”
Alfred sighs. “You are not twelve anymore.”
“What kind of argument is that?” John asks. “Wayne is eating cake for breakfast. He sure as hell isn't twelve anymore.”
Alfred looks at Wayne long-suffering. “Fine, in the fridge. Your favourite.”
“That horrible German thing?” Wayne asks.
“Please say yes, please say yes...” John chants under his breath.
“Black Forest gateau”, “Alfred says.
“Yes!” John jumps up and rounds the table to get to the fridge. And there it is in all its heavy, delicious glory. “I like the German name for it. It looks pretty written.”
“You will not eat it alone,” Alfred says.
“Andy and Lindsey will come over later. Wayne doesn't want any of this,” John answers distracted. He takes the gateau out and puts it on the counter. Alfred made it himself; he can see it in the slight imperfection of the decoration. John loves Alfred he thinks and realises that it really is true. Not everyone would bake him this monster chocolate cake, especially when it would be easier to buy one. He cuts a big piece and puts it on his plate. “You can have my cinnamon-roll, Wayne,” he adds.
“How very generous of you,” Wayne replies.
“That's me,” John says, shrugging like he doesn't care either way, but he knows cinnamon is Wayne's favourite.
Wayne really can't fool him.
~+~
“Three years and you still call him Wayne?” Lindsey asks taking another piece of John's cake. Woman can eat a horse without gaining any weight, John thinks meanly. Just a bit meanly.
“It's his name,” John stresses.
“I would call him Bruce,” Lindsey answers.
“You will call him Mister Wayne like everyone else,” John says.
She sticks her tongue out like a five year old. John rolls his eyes.
“I told him to call Wayne daddy,” Andy throws in.
“Urgh, that sounds so wrong. No offence, but he really doesn't look like dad-material.”
“How does he look then?”
“Like bed-slave material,” Lindsey answers.
Andy laughs. John has no idea what to even say to that.
“You are not a member of his fanclub and secretly snapping pics with your phone?” he says eventually.
“No, I'm not,” Lindsey answers.
John thinks she looks shifty at best. “I will check your phone and delete all the pictures of the house,” he says.
She sighs. “I wasn't going to post them.”
“I don't even want to know what you wanted them for,” John says holding his hand out for the cell phone.
She hands it over. “Better not to know, trust me.”
Women, John thinks, are scary, even if they aren't real women yet, but girls. The female species is scary. Period.
There is only one picture of the house on the phone and it's one of him and Andy curled up on the sofa during a movie.
“Oh,” John says.
“Well, yeah...” Lindsey shrugs. She looks uncomfortable, but John can't figure out why. He thinks they look cute together. Comfortable in each other's space.
“You can keep that,” John says, handing the phone back.
“I won't put pictures of the house or you or Mister Wayne on the internet,” Lindsey says.
John feels a bit like a dick for even mentioning it, because Andy and her are an item, for months now, and he never saw anything on that website (he still checks it once a month or so, just to see how crazy people are).
He cuts her another piece of cake as an apology.
~+~
John doesn't get that knife he wanted so badly for his birthday, but he gets a new rapier which is cool too.
“So, do I get a car and a big ass party next year with all my friends?”
“All two of them?” Wayne asks.
“It's not about quantity but quality when it comes to friends,” John answers.
Wayne nods. “Very true and wise for your years.”
“Ha ha,” John says.
“I mean it John. You are wise and smart and all a parent could want-”
“And I have a shiny big bag of issues on top,” John interrupts.
“Perfection,” Wayne says, “is a very, very boring thing.”
“Ah, so you chose me because I wasn't boring and you were bored with your life?” John has no idea why he even said that. What the fuck? He swore to himself he would never ask why Wayne chose him. The thing is that he really wants to know.
“I wasn't bored with my life,” Wayne answers.
“Right.”
Wayne looks at him and his fingers twitch on the table like he wants to reach out and maybe grasp John's hand. They're still awkward as hell around each other, especially when it comes to affection and personal space. Touching seems like a hurdle sometimes too big to master unharmed.
“You saw me,” Wayne settles on.
John has no idea what he means, except maybe Wayne means that he knew as he looked at Wayne, that something inside John recognised a part inside Wayne that John could relate to. Maybe Wayne felt the same.
“You saw me,” John says and the moment feels really heavy. “And you didn't run,” he adds to lighten the mood, but it doesn't work.
“You didn't either.”
“I didn't know it was you. When I saw Alfred for the first time I had no idea he worked for you. I didn't know who adopted me. They didn't tell me. I was just taken away, shipped-”
“I'm sorry,” Wayne interrupts and reaches out so his fingertips touch John's. John looks down at their hands and holds his breath for a few seconds for no good reason. Wayne's touch is still new and kind of exciting. John is sure it will fade with time and become familiar.
“Why was this so very hush-hush?” John asks, still staring at their fingers.
Wayne takes a deep breath; John can hear it, before he speaks. “I wasn't sure it would work out.”
John flinches and wants to pull away. It was a possibility, of course. It always is. Wayne was only covering his bases; everyone would do that, before signing the papers that will chain you to another being forever.
Wayne grabs his hand in a too tight hold. “Not because of you, John. Because of me. Rachel had just died and I was...” he trails off.
And suddenly John gets it: Wayne had needed a purpose and saw it in John. It was not what John had wanted to hear, but it was the truth and that counted for something.
“Okay,” John says and then: “I'm glad it did work out.”
“I am too,” Wayne answers.
~six~
John has a few people he doesn't call friends he likes to hang out with. Mostly they're from his martial arts classes. They hang out during free periods and after school when Alfred is late or in the car when Alfred drops one or two of the guys off at home.
Alfred always looks hopeful when John asks if he can go hang out with someone else than Andy after school. John knows Alfred wants a million friends to make John's life a blast, but the thing is that, even if John is good with people, can nearly work with everyone, he doesn't like them that much. He is totally comfortable and content with Andy and Lindsey and at home Alfred and Wayne. He doesn't need anyone else.
~+~
“Is that weird?” John asks Andy.
It's too cold to be outside, but they're doing it anyway. Andy huddles into the blanket and looks out onto the gardens. “No, some people are just that way, but don't you want to be with someone?”
“Like you are with Lindsey?”
“Yeah, like that. I mean, don't you like anyone at school? Or at least find them attractive?”
John takes a sip of hot tea and thinks about it. He doesn't think so. He can say he finds a few people attractive at school, a girl from his fencing class looks really great and two guys from his martial arts classes too, but does he want to have sex with them? He seriously doesn't think so.
“No, not really.”
“So, what do you think about, who do you think about, when you jerk off?” Andy asks. He sounds genuine curious.
If it were anyone else John would tell them to fuck the hell off, but it's Andy. “No one in particular.”
“Strangers?”
“No, it's more like faceless people doing stuff to each other.”
“Not you?” Andy asks, he turns a bit to look at John.
“No, sometimes I'm at the fringes watching, but mostly I'm not even there.”
“So, you like invent your own personal porn with faceless people?” Andy asks.
John nods. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty accurate,” he answers and looks at Andy, who is frowning. “You think it's weird.”
“No, I don't think anything is weird at all as long as it gets you off and doesn't hurt anyone. But me and Lindsey we think about people. Specific people.”
“Each other?”
“Well, yes, obviously, but sometimes other people too.”
“Never thought about real people,” John says.
“Well, everyone is different.”
~+~
It's true that everyone is different, but John wonders if he's messed up somehow. He stalked some sex-blogs and websites with message-boards. Most people fantasize about people they know or celebrities or even random strangers they saw on the bus.
It doesn't work for John. He just can't imagine himself with someone he saw on a bus or in a café or in a magazine. That's why John doesn't have a single Playboy under his bed.
When he lies down and tries to think about someone he knows the only people that come to mind are Andy and Lindsey and that seems just wrong.
~+~
“Okay,” Andy says on their way to the school-gates. Alfred is going to be late and they're going to hang out at the book store and wait for him.
“What?”
“You are being weird.”
“Thanks.”
“I don't mean it that way. Just you want to talk about it, but don't know how?”
“I don't know if I should,” John answers. He puts his hands in the pockets of his jacket and walks straight ahead. It's ten minutes to the book store. He could get it off his chest by the time they reach it. And if Andy should be mad he could take the bus back to the orphanage as the bus station is close by.
“Ah, okay. Try then. I promise-”
“Don't promise anything,” John interrupts.
“You're freaking me out,” Andy says.
John takes a deep breath. “So remember our conversation about jerking off the other day?”
“Yeah?”
“I tried to think of someone from a magazine or school, but it just didn't work. I can't imagine myself with strangers, but it worked with you and Lindsey,” John says.
And nods. “Kinda makes sense.”
“What?”
“I mean, you have so many issues with trust and being left behind and of course you wouldn't get off on someone you can't trust not to screw you over. And me and Lindsey we wouldn't.” Andy reaches out and tugs on John's hand so he can link their gloved fingers and squeezes his hand. “It's fine. I'm not mad. I am sure Lindsey wouldn't be mad either. She thinks you cleaned up nicely.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Andy smiles. “It's fine. You can think about us doing wicked things to you all you want.”
John buries his face in his scarf. What the fuck? But he's smiling.
~+~
The surprising thing for John is that he does think about them from time to time. He doesn't set out to do it when he lies in bed, but somehow it happens anyway.
He catches himself sometimes watching Lindsey dance or leaning over and kissing Andy's cheek and wonders. He probably shouldn't, but it's still there.
John would like to know how it would be with a person he likes and trusts, but is very aware that that kind of commitment won't be found in a 15 year old. No way in hell.
~+~
“So, you're gonna stay unkissed for god only knows how many years to come?” Lindsey asks. John wonders when exactly they got to the point where he is okay with discussing his sex-life, or lack thereof with her.
“Show me that unique snowflake person who is willing to date me for at least six months without screwing it up, so we can kiss or whatever and I will go out with them.”
“Them, hmmm?”
“I'm not interested in genders,” John says, because it's true. He is interested in people, or not. John is pretty messed up.
“But you like Andy?”
“Well, duh,” John says.
“And me?” Lindsey continues.
“Yeah, you're a good person.”
“I try,” she answers, looking at him hard. “I do think you cleaned up nicely. All that fencing and stuff, maybe,” she cocks her head.
John is not thinking about what she might be implying here. “Thanks.”
“I would make out with you,” Lindsey declares.
“Thanks?”
“It's not-” she sighs. “I discussed that with Andy, you know? You are our friend and we love you and we don't want you to be unkissed when you’re 27 or whatever.”
“You want to make out with me out of pity?” John asks. He is not exactly appealed. Maybe a bit.
“Can't speak for Andy, but I would make out with you because I think you're hot and because my boyfriend doesn't mind if it's you.”
“Aren't you guys a bit too young to be already bored with your sex-life?” John says.
She slaps him. “Stop joking. It's cool if you don't want to, but if we should ever be with someone else, it would be you,” she answers. “Because we love you John.”
Yeah, John thinks, he loves them too, but it's not really the kind of love where you want to be with the person every single day and night and miss them to the point of depression when they're not there and where every touch seems like something special. A freaking miracle.
~+~
“So, John,” Wayne says, playing with a pawn. He isn't meeting John's eyes, that's how John knows this won't be a nice, calm game. This will be a TALK.
“Yeah?”
“Andy and Lindsey been together for more than half a year already,” Wayne says.
“Yeah,” John answers.
“Do you have someone you like?”
John looks at him then. “Is this your awkward way to have The Talk?”
“I never had the talk before with anyone, except Alfred and - just no. I'm not going there. So, yeah?”
“I don't need The Talk,” John answers. “I know where babies come from.”
“It's not only about that. I know that it's covered in health-class and probably on a million blogs, but I want you to know that it's okay to be with someone you like, or even someone you only find attractive. I won't judge either way.”
“Because you were busy with a string of women back when you were young?”
Wayne keeps silent for a few seconds. “You and Alfred are way too close.”
John shrugs. “We aren't judging either. But I'm not that kind of person.”
“What does that mean?” Wayne wants to know. He puts the pawn on the table and looks directly into John's eyes. John takes a moment to think over what he wants to say. What he wants to reveal.
“I am not interested in strangers.”
“All people are strangers at first. Alfred and I were strangers at first, and Andy and Lindsey.”
“Yes, but they aren't anymore and -” he sighs, frustrated, because it's just so hard to explain this. This is how he feels. Can't that be enough? “Why can't it be enough that I don't want to be with someone now?”
“I am not pressuring you in going out, John! I am just curious about your life.”
“I don't date anyone. I don't want to date anyone and I am not sleeping around with strangers and even if I would, I would always use protection. Can we drop that now?” Suddenly John feels angry for no good reason with Wayne. He doesn't want to think about it all anymore. He doesn't want for Wayne to think John is a freak, but that ship has sailed already.
“Yes,” Wayne says.
~+~
John is thinking about it the whole evening. He just can't explain to himself why he was so angry all of a sudden with Wayne. Wayne only wants to be a part of John's life. John wants that too. He likes to talk to Wayne, likes to fence and have lazy breakfast discussions on Saturdays. All that awesome stuff that they're doing: John likes it.
He wanted Wayne to be home more often and Wayne is and they are on their way to be a family, or whatever.
It's only natural that Wayne would want to know if John is seeing someone. Every parent that cares for their child would.
Maybe it's because John doesn't have anyone, doesn't want anyone. Maybe it's strange, but that is how John is and Wayne should know that by now. Wayne should understand and respect that.
John sighs, looking at the ceiling. No answers there, not surprising.
~+~
Wayne is still awake when John knocks on his bedroom door. He hasn't been in there ever before, but the whole thing, the whole conversation wouldn't let him sleep.
“Come in,” Wayne says. John is sure he knows it isn't Alfred.
John takes a deep breath and opens the door. Wayne isn't even in bed; he's sitting on the sofa, a book close by.
John closes the door and stands there awkwardly. He has no idea what to do. “Sorry for-” he waves his hand and Wayne nods. Smiling a little.
“No, really. I was still awake. I'm a night-person.”
No shit, John thinks. “I figured.”
“So? Want to sit down?” Wayne asks.
John looks around. There is a chair by the dresser and then there is the empty space on the big ass couch. John still wants to take the chair, which is stupid.
“Yeah, thanks,” he says crossing the room to sit down at the very end of the couch. He tugs his feet under him and doesn't quite look at Wayne's face.
Wayne waits him out. “I have issues,” John says.
“Everyone has issues.”
“Yeah, I know, but I mean with people. I have issues with trusting people. I don't like to feel exposed,” John says and he feels exposed as hell right now.
“You don't have to explain to me-”
“Yes, I do. You want me to. I know you care and want to be part of my life, but this is my life. You and Alfred and Andy and Lindsey. This is my life. There is no one else. I am not sure there ever will be anyone else,” John cuts him off. He needs to get it out all in one.
Wayne is silent for a long moment and John balls his hands to fists, waiting. If Wayne was hoping for grandchildren or what-the-heck-ever, well, he'll be disappointed as hell.
“What about Andy?” Wayne asks eventually.
“What?” John turns his head sharply to look at Wayne.
“Andy, do you like him? You are with him all the time and you like boys?” It's a very tentative question.
“I like people. Certain people only,” John says. He still has no idea how to talk about this with Wayne, who is his parent on paper, but is in no way like a parent should be. Alfred is the parent in this house. John has no idea what the hell Wayne is in this constellation. Maybe something like an older brother?
Wayne nods. “Andy?”
“For god's sake! What does it matter?” John explodes. He gets up and paces the bedroom.
“It doesn't. I just thought maybe you want to talk about it now, because you're here in the middle of the night.”
Which is a very reasonable assumption. John sighs. “I am not in love with Andy.”
“Oh, okay. You two seemed so close,” Wayne answers.
“We are and I love him and I really like Lindsey, but this is not-” he stops and then settles on, “it. Me and Andy aren't you and Rachel.”
Wayne seems to flinch and John feels a bit like a dick for bringing her up.
“I know.”
“I didn't mean it in a bad way,” John says. He slings his arms over his chest and stares at the wall. “This was a bad idea.”
“No,” Wayne says, getting up and stepping slowly closer. “I'm glad you feel comfortable enough to try and let me be a part of your inner-life.” He stops in front of John and John looks slowly up and into Wayne's face. He looks tired and like he has no idea what the hell he's doing. Well, John thinks that makes two of them. John uncurls and Wayne takes it as the permission it is to pull him into a hug.
Wayne's arms around him are still exciting, feel still new. He pushes a bit closer and buries his nose in Wayne's shirt, inhaling his scent. This, he thinks, is where he wants to be.
~seven~
John doesn't think much about sex in general. And he sure as hell tries not to think about Andy or Lindsey, or Andy and Lindsey in that context, but now that she offered, that they offered, well. Truth is John has never been kissed before and he's going to be sixteen in five months.
~+~
After martial arts class is over the guys (more often than not) are joking around about sex and making out and their girlfriends. John keeps silent, because what the hell would he even say?
“So, John?” Timothy asks. John likes Timothy. As much as he likes anyone who isn't Andy, Alfred or Wayne, or Lindsey.
“Hmm?” he answers distracted.
“What about you? Girlfriend?”
“Nah,” Eggert throws in. John knows Eggert only listens when you call him by his last name, but then when his parents would've called him Mogli, he would go by his last name only too. “He's with that art-dude. That one with the ace comics.”
“Andy?” John asks.
“If that's the one, yeah. I can't remember his name. Small, on the pudgy side with reddish-blond hair?”
“Andy,” John states. “He has a girlfriend.”
“What?”
“Lindsey. That girl that hangs out with us? That's her.”
“The scary one?” Timothy asks.
John thinks about it and then smiles. “Yeah, that would be her. She writes the story-lines for Andy's comics.”
“Dude,” Eggert says. He sounds awed.
John knew people would see the genius that is Andy. One day. That day seems to be today. At least for Eggert.
“Well, yeah,” John says shrugging.
“So, you don't have anyone?” Timothy asks.
“No.”
“Would you want to,” Timothy bites his lip and then mumbles something.
“I didn't catch that.”
“He's asking you out,” Eggert says.
“What?” Because no one has ever asked John out. Not even tried.
“It's cool if you don't, you know, like guys or whatever...” Timothy trails off.
“I do like guys,” John says, because he does and he's big on honesty, when he can afford it. And in this case he can.
“Oh, okay?”
“I just don't-” John has no idea what to say. He looks at Timothy and then nods. “Okay.”
~+~
“Dude!” Andy says.
“I know.”
“Dude.”
“I know,” John says again. “He is not my boyfriend,” he adds just to be clear on that one.
“I know,” Andy answers. “But look at you. All grown up and going out on a date.”
“I'm going to stab you if you tell anyone,” John warns.
“You won't because you love me.”
Too true, John thinks. “Still, I don't want to get anyone's hopes up or whatever.” Truth is for some reason he doesn't want to tell Wayne.
“It'll be fine. At least you’ve known him for some time now.”
John doesn't think it can be called knowing someone if you only see a person once a week, and your interaction consists of 'hello', and something about a school report, during the five minutes you change your clothes in a room full of other guys. But John always knew he had other standards for these things. On the other hand Andy isn't totally in the wrong; Timothy is not a complete stranger.
“Don't tell anyone,” John says again.
“I promise.”
“Not even Lindsey and tell her to stop proposing a threesome,” John says.
“She doesn't. We aren't-” Andy waves his hand in a vague gesture. “Only like handjobs.”
Urgh, John thinks. He so didn't need that mental image.
~+~
John doesn't tell anyone, and no one except Andy knows, but he still feels like he somehow fails Alfred and Wayne by telling Timothy that it just doesn't work only after a few weeks. John feels too pressured into the whole thing, even he knows that they are taking it real slow and John gets that Timothy wants to hold hands or kiss goodbye or hello or whatever. John, well, John just isn't there yet and he doesn't think he will be any time soon.
It took him and Wayne nearly three years for an awkward as hell hug. But the hugs are getting so much better with practice and they still feel brand new, like that first time. It makes John feel warm and safe and loved.
~+~
“You are not a hopeless case,” Andy says.
John feels like he is on some days, but on most he doesn't care. He has the people he loves in his life and everything he could want is provided. He just has to ask. He doesn't ask often for things. The good thing about Wayne is that he just somehow knows when John really wants something.
“I know. I don't care. I mean, me and Timothy are friends, and well, he'll get over the crush. It's not like we were dating long.”
“Seven weeks and not even a kiss,” Andy says.
“It didn't feel right.”
Andy nods like he gets it, but John knows Andy is worried for John too. Knows Andy wants all the things he has for John. “I just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy. I know it's a different kind, a different definition, but I am happy. Here with Alfred and you and Lindsey,” he says. “And Wayne.”
“Never really thought this could work out in the beginning, you know?” Andy says.
“Yeah, I think no one really did, but I had a feeling it could.”
Andy raises an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yeah. Something about Wayne, you remember the first time he came to the orphanage?”
“Yeah.”
“I felt like I knew him back then,” he shrugs. It's hard to explain.
“I can't say I get what you mean, but I am glad it worked out. Not only for you, for me too. Alfred is the best person ever. Imagine never even knowing him.”
John shakes his head. He can't imagine it anymore. Alfred is too much a part of his life.
~+~
“What do you want for your sixteenth birthday?” Wayne asks casually. John's birthday is still three months away, but no one knows if Wayne will be there then. He might be on a business trip. So.
“I don't know. I don't need anything.” Which is the truth.
“It's not about needing something, it's about wanting something.”
What John wants he can't have. He wants to spend his birthday with Wayne doing awesome things the whole day long.
“A car would be practical,” John allows.
“A car?”
“Yeah. Something not flashy.”
“You mean you want, what, a Ford?”
“Yeah? Something small and normal.”
“Cheap, you mean.”
“If you like that word better,” John answers. He doesn't need expensive gifts. He doesn't even need a Ford. He has Alfred. He's sure he won't even be using the car that often anyway.
“I can afford something -”
“It was never about the money. I didn't stay because you’re rich, or because you were never there in the first place. I like it here. This is my home. You should know that by now, Wayne.”
Wayne nods, there is a smile playing around his lips. John likes seeing Wayne smile. John likes seeing Wayne happy.
John likes making Wayne happy, he realises. “I make you happy,” he says and even to his own ears it sounds surprised.
“Yes, you do,” Wayne answers and grabs his hand on the table to squeeze it. He does that more often now. Random acts of affection. John likes them all. The hair ruffling, the hugging, the hand grabbing. Something that could be called 'cuddling' on the sofa. It all tells John he is welcome here, he is loved.
And he wants to make sure now that Wayne knows the feeling is mutual. He should know, John thinks, but then Wayne is as messed up as John is and sometimes he needs to hear the words.
~+~
John knows that Wayne doesn't visit his parent's graves on the anniversary of their death. He visits the ruin of the theatre instead. He's seen it happen three times already. Well, more like he's seen Wayne leave on that day and asked Alfred.
“So, can I come with, or do you want to be alone?” John asks at breakfast. This year the obit falls on a Saturday.
“Come with where?”
“To that theatre. The ruin. Where your parents were killed,” John answers.
“Why would you want to come?”
“Because they were your parents and you're hurting and you don't need to do this alone. But you can.”
Wayne looks at him like he can't believe John is real. It makes John uncomfortable and proud. “Thank you John.”
“Any time,” John answers.
part 3