Work Text:
When Kori moves in, she and Donna paint her room. Like most things with Kori, it doesn’t go as Donna plans.
“You pick colours that work together,” says Donna, shuffling through the paint swatches. “Sometimes it helps to pick a colour that reminds you of somewhere nice. I picked this shade of blue for my room because it reminded me of the seas off Paradise Island.”
“This one,” says Kori, fingering a violent shade of green, “reminds me of the blood of the scientists of the Citadel. I long to see this colour again someday.”
“Right, but – uh – don’t you want your room to be a calming space, Kori?”
Kori flashes her a grin, flame-tendrils of hair curling round her face as she hovers five inches above the ground, freaking the hell out of everyone in this Ikea. “I personally prefer my bedroom to be an exciting space, Donna.”
Donna flushes, hides it. Kori’s been on Earth for all of two minutes – she cannot be flirting, no matter what her eyes suggest. “Right, duly noted. Thank god for thick walls.”
Kori is scanning the paint swatches again, but there’s a distinct bored air to her now, and a bored Kori is usually one that’s about to cause trouble. It’s not that Donna is desperate, desperate to avoid having Kori think of her as dull. That’s not the reason that she panics and blurts out – “What colour were the skies on Tamaran?”
Kori stiffens beside her, and actually floats down a few inches.
“I’m sorry,” says Donna, “I – “
“Orange,” says Kori, her finger distractedly trailing over a row of peaches and gold. “They reddened until they were purple at sunset. That’s where the royal colours come from. The sky at its most noble.”
Donna reaches over and squeezes Kori’s wrist. “That sounds beautiful.” She’s rewarded another one of those quicksilver grins. It hurts her chest, sometimes, just how easily Kori is pleased and just how free she is with showing it. She must have made a great royal, always showering back praise and approval to her public.
“I do not wish for my room to be either orange or purple,” said Kori, “as then I might blend into the walls.”
“You’ll need to be seen in order to keep that bedroom exciting,” she says, and Kori laughs loudly and links her arm in hers.
“Now you are getting it, Donna Troy. What do you think of the pink?”
“I feel sick,” says Dick, staring at the absolute mountain of food that Gar and Wally have delivered. “Like, just looking at that makes me feel the gastric bypass I’d need.”
“Cheer up, Dicky,” says Wally, mouth full of burgers. “That’s just the B-Man’s voice in your head trying to stop you from having fun. Leave dear old dad in your subconscious and have a burger.”
“He’s not my dad,” says Dick, but he does take a slice of pizza and start eating it rather defensively.
“Who’s not his dad?” asks Kori, leaning close to Donna’s ear. She smells of cantaloupe; Donna vows to work out which bodywash she uses and start stealing it immediately.
“An older superhero who adopted him when he was young and trained them. They have – “ she pitches her voice to what she hopes is too low for Dick to hear – “issues.”
“Ah,” says Kori. “I understand.”
“Really?”
“No.” She turns to Dick. “What kind of issues do you have with your non-father?”
Dick starts frantically coughing and spluttering. Wally is laughing so hard that he actually phases through the table on his way to the floor. Gar looks like he’s about to have an aneurism.
“I don’t – I don’t have issues, I – Donna!”
“I don’t understand what my question has done to elicit such disruption. I apologise.” Kori’s voice is perfect innocence, the picture of the impeccably-mannered-but-clueless alien princess.
But then she turns to Donna and winks. She fucking winks. And Donna is so gone on this girl.
The thing is, everyone who has ever met Dick Grayson knows that when he grows up he’s going to marry Barbara Gordon, the Batgirl and girl of his dreams from day one. Everyone, apparently, except Dick, because he’s taken to eyeing Kori’s legs like they’re prime steak while they’re in team ‘meetings’. Admittedly, team meetings are mostly just group hangouts until everyone gets called into a new, ridiculous danger, but still. They should try and maintain some kind of air of professionalism.
“It’s not that I don’t think people should date within a team,” Donna tells Vic while they’re both on monitor duty – well, Vic’s on monitor duty and Donna’s had too much coffee to actually be helpful. “Actually maybe it is that. Dating within a team is dangerous. It can make you make rash decisions.”
Vic raises his eyebrow at her. “Ok, number one, we’re on a team with Changeling and Kid Flash. If you’re worried about people on the team being rash, I think that ship has sailed. Number two, I’ve been a superhero for all of five minutes and even I know that Wonder Woman and Batman are doing it.”
Donna makes a face, but she can’t really be surprised – it’s the worst kept secret in the superhero community, because Diana is kind of like Kori and loves playing the whole “I’m a princess from another world, I don’t understand why my blatant sexual remarks make these mortals uncomfortable” card. It’s weird because Diana’s kind of her pseudo-mother, and she really doesn’t want to know about her sex life. Though it’s probably also weird that the girl she’s sort-of-crushing on is quite similar to Diana.
“I’m just saying,” says Vic. “The Justice League are all clearly doing it, and they’re the best out there. And we’re the Teen Titans, emphasis on the Teen. Hormonal drama is kind of written into our groups DNA.”
“We’re all in our twenties,” says Donna. “I just hate that he’s so open about it. It’s gross.”
“It’s hot,” says Vic. “They’re the two most insanely beautiful people I have ever met, and if you didn’t have a mad crush on the girl you’d think so too.”
“I do – I do not – “
“Oh, whoops,” Vic deadpans. “Was that a secret? Look, Donna, Kori doesn’t seem like the type to settle down right now. So what if she wants to sleep with Dick? She also probably wants to sleep with you. Go and give it a try.”
“She’s my roommate,” says Donna, gesturing lamely with her coffee cup.
Vic rolls his eye. “Tragically, there’s a bank robbery going down on fifth. Want to act like a real grown-up and help me stop it?”
“Fine,” she says, leaving her coffee and grabbing her lasso. “But I won’t enjoy it, you know.”
Her comment to Vic was only half joking. It’s a truth that she’s struggled to hide from herself. She’s tried to punch it out into training bags, fly fast enough to escape it, drink it under the table along with the rest of the Titans. But it keeps coming back to her – she doesn’t enjoy being a superhero, not all the time. And those times she hates it are growing, swallowing up every good thing. Their victories used to feel like victories. Now they feel like half-second gasps in a marathon, and she’s the only untrained idiot not jogging with ease.
Of course, she’s being petulant. No one enjoys it all the time. Their lives are scary and violent and heart-breaking, and not every fight is satisfying.
Except if you’re Kori, naturally, who’s currently hurling Gorilla Grodd across the bay.
“Good throw, Princess,” says Dick, cheering loudly next to Donna. She grits her teeth. He’s your friend, she reminds herself, your best friend from childhood. Anyway, she has other fish to fry, or super-intelligent gorillas to punch, or whatever.
So she methodically punches her way through the simian army, working seamlessly with Dick, flying low and acting as the tank while he does his acrobatic shit above her in the air. Kori’s raining fire from the sky, and Gar’s a leopard right now, mauling every hairy face he comes across and spewing terrible puns as he does so.
And then she gets distracted, just for a moment.
It’s stupid, really. It’s just that there’s a five-second pause in the fight, and Dick lands next to her breathless with the biggest grin on his face, and Donna tries not to feel that this is all so unfair because it isn’t, really, it’s just that she’s apparently growing out of the thing that she once loved and that doesn’t seem to be a problem for anyone else. It’s just that Kori is floating down to land next to Dick with a smile on her face and a comment about how “brave warriors need to be rewarded,” and Dick’s eating it up. It’s just that Raven is looking at her intently, with something almost approaching concern on that impassive face, and Donna didn’t fucking ask to be on a team with an empath so maybe Raven could keep the fuck out of her mind –
In retrospect, it’s possible that Raven was staring at the enormous fist about to connect with her head.
“She’s concussed,” says Raven, and Donna bites back the urge to say wow, thank god we’ve got an empath. Of course she’s concussed, she’s got a literal goose egg on her head and a dull throbbing beneath her skin. She’s lying on the sofa in her apartment, ice pack pressed hard against her forehead, while everyone gathers in a circle around her and talks about her.
Kori pushes through the crush of people and presses a glass of water into Donna’s hand, settling onto the edge of the sofa and smiling at her. It’s a beautiful smile, and it’s beautiful because there’s nothing underneath it, no pity or worry or disappointment. Kori is just smiling because Donna’s alive and fine.
Donna doesn’t know how to say thank you for that in a way that won’t come across as creepy, so in a move she will definitely blame on the concussion later, she just reaches out and takes Kori’s hand.
“Someone should stay with her,” Dick’s saying, dubiously. “We need – “
“I live her,” says Kori, “I’ll stay with her.”
Dick purses his lips. “No offence, Kori, but you don’t know the symptoms of worsening brain damage in humans – “
“Kori stays,” says Donna. “The rest of you go. This is my apartment. Kori, if I start sounding disjointed or unable to hold a conversation, comm the tower and then call an ambulance if there’s no reply.”
“I will fly you to the hospital myself,” promises Kori, solemn as an oath, and it’s so unbearably sweet that Donna kind of wants to cry.
Dick sighs and looks like he wants to say something more, but Vic lays a hand on his shoulder and begins to shuffle the gang out of the apartment. Donna lies back and closes her eyes. She really wants to sleep forever, but the pounding in her head isn’t going to let that happen anytime soon.
“You should drink,” says Kori, pushing the glass of water closer to her lips, and Donna downs some obediently. “You were very brave today, Donna.” She’s twirling a strand of Donna’s hair between her fingers, and it’s an innocent, sweet action that should absolutely not make her flash back to brave warriors deserve to be rewarded.
“I kind of hate it,” she says. Maybe the concussion has hit her harder than she thought.
“Hate what?” says Kori. She curls up on the other end of the couch, stretching her legs out so they tangle with Donna’s, and that one movement is so gorgeous that Donna’s words get stuck in her throat, coming up as one great lump of undigested feeling.
“Superheroing,” she says. “I kind of hate it, now.”
“Why?”
“I – I just – It just feels like it never ends, you know? It’s a constant war against evil, and we never win. And I’m so tired of fighting, Kori. I just want to live. Be happy. Take some photographs. Maybe even date someone. I used to feel so thrilled, being Wonder Girl. Being a teenage superhero. Now every time I put on that outfit, it just feels like I’m pretending to be someone I grew out of a long time ago.”
“Then why do it?”
She shrugs. It’s a monumental effort. “Because – I guess – I have to, don’t I? I can’t just turn around and say good luck with all the supervillains guys, I’m gonna peace out. If you have the power to stop evil, you have to. It’s – it’s my purpose. It’s what I was taken from that orphanage to do.”
“The purpose of a life is to be lived, Donna,” Kori whispers. She sounds vaguely disapproving. “To be lived with joy.”
And Donna doesn’t know what to say to that, so she just leans back and focuses on the warmth of Kori’s legs tangled with her own. Eventually, she sleeps.
Dick’s going through another one of his ‘fuck Batman’ stages. Apparently when Batman ‘let’ Dick start the Teen Titans, he made Dick promise that there would be no underage drinking, no teenage shenanigans, and no fun. So of course they’re throwing a party, and of course there’s booze. Wally’s even bought weed, which seems to be scandalising Dick and absolutely no one else.
“It’s no more illegal than underage drinking,” says Gar, rolling a joint with far too much expertise for someone so young. “How did you even get all that vodka, anyway?”
Dick shrugs. “The best thing about being Batman’s ward is that he makes the best fake I.D’s, so – aww, c’mon Vic, hugs not drugs.”
“I spent the last five years missing out on all this stuff because I was drug tested every month for the football team,” says Vic. “I’m about to get so fucking high, man.”
Donna laughs as he coughs and splutters, and then takes a puff herself – Diana isn’t going to give a shit about the drug laws of man’s world, and that’s why she has the best superhero guardian.
“May I try?” says Kori, so Donna passes it to her, while Dick stands there and mutters something about “unknown effects on alien physiology,” like he cared about that when he was feeding Kori shots five minutes ago. Kori inhales deeply and then coolly blows out a long plume of smoke, snaking through her lips in a way that definitely leaves Donna feeling a little dry-mouthed. Or maybe that’s just the weed.
“Hey Wally,” says Gar, trying not to giggle, “is this having any effect on you?”
Wally exhales with a pop. “Nope. Can’t get drunk, either.”
“Dude,” says Vic, with so much emphasis that everyone collapses into giggles again. Even Dick smiles.
Gar goes to put some music on, and it’s shitty, because it’s Gar, but Donna suddenly needs to dance else she’ll sink into this chair. She pulls up and head to the middle of the room, swaying in rough time to the beat. A second later Kori’s there, brushing up against her. Donna reaches out and runs her hands through her hair, because it’s right there and it’s so soft and silky, strangely warm in a way that human hair isn’t. Kori’s lips are centimetres away, pillowy and luscious. Donna could kiss her right now and it would be all right. There’s warmth under her skin, and Kori’s soft body against hers, and everything is so perfect that it almost aches not to be kissing her right now.
“This is so hot,” mutters Gar, and Donna pulls away sharply, the moment gone. There’s a look that could be hurt in Kori’s eyes, but she doesn’t want to stick around and find out.
“Shall we introduce Kori to the Earth-ritual of drinking games?” she says brightly, and tries not to feel hollow at the thought of what she’s missing.
It’s hour four of the party, and Donna’s stumbling back from the loos when she sees them.
Dick’s got Wally pressed against the wall, and for a second she thinks they’re fighting until she moves closer and realises they’re really, really not. Dick’s mouthing kisses across Wally’s jaw, and Wally’s not doing anything. One arm is around Dick’s waist and the others on his chest, like he’s trying to force a little distance, and he’s staring up at the ceiling and biting off the gasps that he’s making.
“Dick, don’t – “
“Shh,” says Dick, licking a stripe down his ear. “No thinking. That’s bad.”
“I said don’t,” says Wally, and then he really does push him away. Dick takes another step forward until Wally’s body tenses. “Please, Dick. You’re drunk. You always – just don’t, ok? Don’t do this to me again.”
“Do what, have a little fun?”
Wally’s answering laugh is awful. “Maybe I stopped having fun a while ago, Dick.”
“Ok,” says Dick, slow and calm like he’s working out a problem. “Ok, but – “
“Jesus Christ, what part of no do you not understand?”
“I just want to – “
“I swear to god, if you say talk I’m going to laugh the entire time I’m breaking your nose. Now go.”
“Wally,” says Dick plaintively , moving closer, but Wally turns around and leans his head against the wall until Dick just sighs and leaves.
Donna waits until she can’t hear Dick’s steps anymore and goes to lean next to Wally.
“Hey, kiddo, want to tell me what all that was about?”
“You saw that?” says Wally. His voice sounds wrecked, and while she can’t see most of his face there’s a flush high up on his cheekbones that tells her he’s close to tears.
“Come on,” she says, sliding down the wall and patting the floor next to her. “Sit down and tell Auntie Donna all about it.”
Wally turns and sits down next to her. He’s literally vibrating, she can see that now, all the sobs he’s supressing shaking his shoulders.
“He thinks he can just come around,” he says, and oh, he’s shaking with anger. “Every time he’s not with someone. It’s just some guy stuff, that’s all, doesn’t matter to him. Whenever he’s sick of chasing around after perfect fucking Batgirl, whenever he’s worn himself out talking about her – to me – he comes around for some relief. And I – I keep trying to tell him no. Last time I told him we could never do this again. And then – “ he gasps, the sound harsh and painful. “And then Raven messed with my head, and I get why she did it, but – but – I’ve just got so many feelings inside me, and they all feel twisted and shit, and I just want something in my life to be simple. I just – “ He balls his hands into fists and presses them against his eyes. “I just want someone to love me. Not use me. Just love me. Shit, that sounds pathetic.”
“It doesn’t,” she says, pulling him into a hug. “Oh, Wally, come here. Oh darling. You’ll find someone, you’re such a good guy, you’ll get love. You did the right thing, pushing him away. You were strong. That’s good.”
Wally collapses, shaking against her, sobs ringing out of him, and she almost wants to cry too. Fucking Dick Grayson, messing things up again for everyone. He’s probably in there right now, pulling Kori into a dance, skipping through people in his life like they’re records he can spin and replace.
“Hey,” says Wally, “are you ok?”
He’s so earnest when he says it, and her heart clenches. For Wally, who even at the depths of his despair is looking out for her. For poor Gar, pouring money into the hole his parents left. For Vic’s – everything.
“Yeah,” she says, and then – “No. No, I’m not.”
Wally waits for a bit, and then sighs and shifts them so her head is on his shoulder.
“Yeah, I know about that,” he says softly, and they sit there for a long time.
In the end, she decides to tell the hardest person first.
“I’m thinking of quitting,” she tells Diana. They’re on the roof of the Themyscuran embassy, having their weekly lunch.
“Photography?”
“No. Not – not photography.”
“Oh,” says Diana. She puts down her sandwich. “What’s going on?”
Donna can’t make herself look up. It’s stupid and it’s cowardice and it’s probably making her look a thousand times worse in Diana’s eyes, but she just can’t. “I’m sorry, I’m just – I’m just tired. Of being on the team. Of being in danger all the time. Of this life, and the fights, and the dread. I just feel like I’ve got no control over anything. I know – I know I’m failing you. I know that you took me out of that building in order to make me something great. I’m sorry, Diana. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, Donna,” says Diana. “I didn’t take you out of that orphanage to make you Wonder Girl. I took you because I saw a little girl, and she was scared.” She reaches over and lifts Donna’s chin with two fingers. “And now I see a young woman before me, and she is being brave. And I am so, so proud.”
Donna almost cries, and laughs instead, and they spend lunch laughing and talking about her photography course, and what jobs she’s been thinking of applying to when she graduates, and at the end Diana hugs her and tells her she’ll always be welcome at the embassy and on Themyscura.
“You’re really not disappointed in me?” she asks.
Diana clasps Donna’s shoulder.
“If the world was ending, would you answer the call?” she asks.
“Of course.”
“And if you saw a child in danger, would you save them?”
“Yes.”
“Do you swear you will never use your power to harm?” Donna could be offended at the low-bar question, but there’s something in Diana’s voice, something old and strange. This is a ritual, this is an oath.
“I swear,” she croaks.
“Do you swear to never let the injustice you see pass unchallenged?”
“I swear.” Her voice is stronger this time.
“Will you live a life of difficult truth rather than easy lies?” There’s tears in Diana’s voice, and in Donna’s too when she says “I swear,” again.
Diana kisses her on the forehead and presses their heads together. “Then I declare you, now and forever, a sister of the Amazons,” she whispers, her face drawn tight with love and grief.
“As simple as that?”
“As simple as that. The world needs more than just warriors, and – oh Donna, you hear parents talking about their kids going off to college and I just didn’t get it, but now – “
“It’s ok.” They’re hugging now, hard enough that they’d probably crush a normal person. “I love you.”
“I love you too. You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”
It’s only walking home afterwards that Donna realises with a sinking feeling that the hardest person to tell isn’t Diana. It’s going to be Dick.
They meet at a diner in Bludhaven for lunch. Or rather, she meets for lunch. Dick is two hours late with gravel in his hair and a smudge of blood under his jaw which she wipes off tenderly. He sweeps her into a hug despite everything, and she just wants to relax in his arms. How can he still do that, all these years later? Just the sound of his voice makes her want to stand up and fight. Her brother, her leader, her friend.
“Hey,” she says, hugging him back. “Is now a bad time? You look - “
He waves a hand. “It’s always a bad time in Bludhaven. I thought - “ He sighs, rubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know. I thought things would be easier, striking out on my own. It’s just - adulthood, you know? I feel, like, wildly overprepared for some aspects of it, and wildly underprepared for a lot of the rest. I have no idea how to hold down a nine-to-five job while also doing everything I need to do, and I’m out here on my own with no one at my back. Bruce wants me to try and get to know the new Robin, but - you know, we’re still not talking, so the request doesn’t come from him. So I can’t acknowledge it, even though I do want to meet the new Robin, but I also don’t - I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”
“You’re not - well, you are, but it’s ok. What are friends for, right?”
He half-laughs at that. “Yeah. Well. Now you’re in town! I don’t suppose you want to come join the party for tonight?”
She swallows. She’s on her fourth cup of coffee, because she drank too much while waiting for Dick instead of reading her book or preparing what she’s going to say.
“That’s a bad look,” says Dick. “Donna. What’s wrong?”
“I can help you tonight,” she says, all in a rush. “I want to help you, I do but - but then I’m done.”
He leans back, his lips tight. “Done helping me?”
“Done - doing any of this, anymore.” Her voice is so small. “I’m quitting, Dick.”
He doesn’t say anything. His face is perfectly blank, stupidly handsome. That Wayne mask that everyone compliments Bruce on got drilled into Dick too. His fingers are drumming on the table a bit too fast, but that’s the only thing that might give him away to someone else.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I know that isn’t what you wanted to hear.”
“It’s a weird saying, that.”
“Is it?”
“Uh huh.” He picks up his fork and begins pulling his pie apart. “Because it implies that I wanted to hear something. Like there was something – expected of you. I guess there was. What I expected was a nice lunch with a friend. What I wanted was maybe to have some help tonight, and to feel like I’ve still got someone on my team.”
“Dick - “
“That’s what I expected, and I don’t think it was a lot. What I never, ever expected was to hear you being a coward.”
She puts her coffee down gently, or tries to. Liquid splashes everywhere. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare call me that.”
“I’m sorry, was that not what you wanted to hear? What did you want to hear, Donna? Did you want me to be happy that I’ve got one less person out there watching my back? Did you want me to clap you on the shoulder and say hey, kiddo, whatever makes you happy, follow your dreams? That’s not how this life works. You’re going to walk away from the team, you’re going to walk away from Wally and Gar, you’re going to walk away just so you can - what, find yourself? Hey, maybe you can go Eat, Pray, Love your way around, get in touch with your spiritual side. Try and ignore the news. Particularly the body counts. That might harsh your buzz.”
“You asshole,” she says. She’s almost shaking, and she can feel humiliating tears building in her eyes. “Fuck you, and fuck your sense of self-righteousness. You think I haven’t thought about that? You think I won’t go to bed every night, knowing that’s a decision I made, knowing there were lives I could save? I didn’t ask for this, Dick. I didn’t want to be special. You might have sworn a pledge over a candle to give yourself over to some holy war and screw over any chance of your happiness, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us owe it to you to follow your example.” She stands, grabbing her purse. “And before you accuse me of being selfish, how about you use that eidetic memory of yours and count how many times you said I and me during the course of your little rant there.”
She wants to storm out and leave him sitting there in a pool of his own poison. But – she pauses. And she hates herself, but she still pauses, waiting to see if he’ll call out to her.
He doesn’t.
She doesn’t fly herself back to New York. Dick’s words are churning in her gut and she doesn’t want to look down and see a mugging and have to dive in. She buys herself a train ticket and even manages to snag a table - the train is mostly empty, anyway. Which is why it’s even more irritating when someone sits down opposite her.
“Plenty of other tables, asshole,” she snaps, and yeah, she’s being too rude, but she really doesn’t want to get hit on today.
“I don’t know,” says a familiar voice, low and amused. “This one certainly has the best company.”
“Br-Bruce.” She manages to pitch her voice to a whisper just in time. There he is, Bruce Wayne as she has never seen him before, in a low-slung baseball cap and a Gotham Knights hoodie. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I might try and undo the damage of whatever my son said to you.”
“You’re spying on him?”
“No more than I spy on anyone. Diana told me you were quitting, and I knew you were coming into town. I – assumed, I suppose, that whatever Dick said to you was not supportive.”
“And why do you assume that?”
His eyes are level and calm. There’s no sign of disrespect, for either her or Dick. “Because I know the place that Dick’s in now. And I know my son well enough to imagine how he reacted.”
She looks down at her hands, clenched around her shitty mug of station coffee. “He told me he feels that no one has his back.” Her voice is too accusatory. She sounds like a whining teenager.
Bruce turns his head to look out of the window. Does that count as a flinch for Batman? “Dick won’t ask for my help, and if I swoop in without his asking then it will damage our relationship even further. I am in – a bind of my own making, I suppose.” He waves his hand as if to dismiss the conversation from the air. “I actually wanted to come and tell you that I admire what you’re doing.”
“You do?”
“Yes. I – cannot quit. Not because I have any grand ideas about heroism, but because what I do is – a compulsion, for me. It is a useful compulsion, and it has channelled me away from my more self-destructive impulses, but I don’t fool myself into believing that what I do is healthy. Or rather, I don’t fool myself anymore. In the past, I think I told myself some of the lies typical to young men to justify my actions. Perhaps some of that rubbed off on Dick. So yes, I admire you for being able to quit. Diana is a wonderful guardian, and I mean no disrespect to her parenting, but you have had an – unusual childhood. To make it through that and come out as level-headed as you are, with a clear picture of what you want – it is impressive, and it speaks of a kind of strength I don’t possess.”
She looks back at her hands, because if she looks up she’s going to burst into tears again. Maybe she should say thank you? Or perhaps that would be cloying. “You know,” she says instead, “there’s a middle option between waiting for Dick to ask for help and just swooping into Bludhaven. You could call him and ask.”
Bruce smiles. “I’ll think about it.” He stands up, doing his level best to disguise his bulk – difficult in the pokey train compartments. “I should be going. Be warned – Kal will likely want to drop in on you at some point and have some terrible maudlin talk about how you’ll always be welcomed back into the fold.”
And then he’s off, moving down the compartment and out onto the station just as the doors begin to close and Gotham moves away from her.
They have a party for her last day in the Teen Titans. Wally has apparently decided that he’s going to take up mixology and is producing semi-drinkable concoctions almost as fast as they can down them.
“It’s an Old-Fashioned,” he says, pushing something orange at Dick. “Try it, it’s a classic. I didn’t have any Angostura bitters because I’m not seventy so I just used double the sugar.”
“Thanks,” says Dick, looking at the thing like it might be poisoned. You come of age in Bruce Wayne’s house with Bruce Wayne’s liquor cabinet, you’re probably a little leery of Jack Daniels Honey. Well, Dick could learn to slum it like a real boy.
Garth and Roy come too, and Dick even brings Jason, the new Robin, who has the most hysterically awful Gotham accent. He’s lounging across the sofa, gesticulating wildly with a beer can while Gar stares at him in fascination. Based on the kid’s hand gestures he’s either discussing extreme violence or water polo. Possible both.
“Looks like you spoke to Bruce,” she says to Dick, before she can remember that she’s not talking to him.
Dick grins sheepishly. “Alfred, actually. Look, I wanted to say – “
“It’s fine,” she cuts him off. “Really, it’s fine. What are ten years of best-friendship for? Anyway, you’re here now.”
“Sure. Hey, wanna dance before they switch DJ’s and we’re subjected to Wally’s taste in music?”
“Absolutely.” Raven’s currently in control of the music, and despite her none-more-goth exterior she apparently has a thing for old classics. There’s something playing that might be Billie Holliday or Ella Fitzgerald or – Donna has hit the limit of her knowledge. She lets Dick twirl her around in a loose dance, and all feels right with the world.
“I really am sorry,” he says soft against her cheek.
“I told you – “
“No, it’s not ok. That was – that was all my own shit.”
“Dick, come on. I know that. I know you.”
He shrugs. “I’m trying to quit doing that, you know. All part of growing up.”
Over his shoulder, she catches sight of Wally, flushed and anxious and staring at Dick with miserable yearning. His hands are fisted round the stem of some over-fancy glass, frozen. And isn’t that just the measure of agony – Wally West, struck still.
“Ok,” she says, pitching her voice low. “I’m about to push my luck on that new no-lashing out policy.”
Dick glances back, following her line of sight, and then blushes. “Jesus. He told you?”
“Kinda walked in on you, boy blunder. You were too wasted to notice. So. What gives?”
“I don’t know, Donna.” His hand clenches round her waist. “It’s – it’s the only thing in my life that I don’t have to figure out, except for the part where it’s a massive thing in my life I suddenly have to figure out. And that’s the limit of how much I can talk about it.”
She looks at him with his jaw clenched and his eyes burning off into the distance. So handsome, so angry, so kind.
“You know it isn’t fair, right?” she says, gentle as she can.
“Yeah.” He still won’t meet his eyes, and his voice has that little-boy edge it gets – a child being told off for something he knows he did. “Yeah, I know. Oh – Kori.”
Kori’s wearing a backless dress of lavender silk picked out with filigree gold brocade and presumably held up by sheer magic. Her hair is a tangerine cloud of wishes and sex dreams. Donna, suddenly hyperaware of her jeans and leather jacket, sort of wants to die. She settles for tripping over Dick’s feet instead.
“Hi,” says Kori, eyes glimmering green. “Can I cut in?”
Dick bows. “I’ll save the next dance for you, princess.”
“Good to know,” says Kori, winking. “But I wasn’t actually talking to you.”
She turns to Donna and looks at her expectantly.
And – oh.
“Yeah,” breathes Donna. “Um, yes. Yeah, let’s dance.”
Dick raises an eyebrow but slips away with grace, and then Kori’s stepping into her space, one arm coming up around Donna’s back. Her scent envelopes Donna, and she feels like she’s drowning. It shouldn’t be possible to want this much. It’s not fair. Without thinking about it they’ve fallen into an easy dance, a shuffling little rhythm that does nothing to disguise the beating of Donna’s heart.
“It’s silly, considering we live together,” says Kori softly, “but I think I’ll miss you.”
“I’m sorry.” That feels like all she’s saying at the moment. Sorry, sorry, sorry.
Kori cocks her head. “Why?”
“Because – because you’ll miss me?”
Kori’s eyelashes flutter, a motion that Donna feels in the base of her throat. “You know, humans have a very odd way of looking at emotions.”
“We do?”
“You all seem to see them as these things that could be avoided, if you just pressed the right buttons. And when you or someone else gets the wrong one, you try to wave it away, or make it small. Undo it. Why should you be sorry?”
“No such things as apologies on Tamaran, huh?”
“There are. But we make them matter.”
“Well, I’d say I’m sorry for apologising, but… “
Kori laughs and lifts one of Donna’s unresisting arms to twirl herself under. “Emotions just happen, the same way the sun rises and sets, the same way the tides wash in and out. I’ll miss you because I love you, Donna. Accept it as a gift.”
It shouldn’t matter, because Kori doles out I love you like Halloween candy. But for a second, Donna imagines it was different. Imagines if Kori, warm and lithe in her arms, really meant it.
“Do you think I’m a coward, princess?”
Kori shrugs. “Bravery is another human thing.”
“You’re brave.”
“I’m angry. I want to fight, so I fight. I want to dance, so I dance. And when I want – “ Her eyes linger just for a moment, and Donna could swear she was looking at her lips. “When I want, I go for what I want.”
And just like that, Donna’s flashing back to Kori after that first fight, lying sensuous and supine across the couch in Titans Tower. I kissed Nightwing because it was the easiest way to learn your language. Her tongue had darted across her lips. And because I wanted to.
“Oh.” Her eyes are stinging uselessly. “Oh, well. That’s – I guess that’s a good way to live.”
“But not for you.”
“No. But I – I understand that I’m not going to get everything I want.”
“What do you want, Donna?” She’s chewing on her lip, just a flash of perfect teeth. “Because, when I saw you dancing with Dick earlier – “
“NO!” She’s loud enough that Garth whirls round wildly, water twining round his wrist. “Uh, sorry, Garth, I was just – “
“Yelling?” Garth raises an eyebrow. Kori still has her hands on Donna’s waist, fingers hovering tentatively over skin – a moment interrupted. A moment shattered, her mind supplies unhelpfully.
“Yeah.” She’s blushing. “You know me. I love to yell.”
“Right,” says Garth, backing away and nodding vigorously. Well, he’s always been a smart one.
“Donna – “ Kori’s hands are superheated against the small of Donna’s back, and she needs out of this situation, out of it now. She’ll tell Kori that she and Dick are just good friends, and then she’ll watch Kori cross the room and slide around him, the two most beautiful people she’s ever seen, and then she’ll run away and die. That sounds like a plan. That’s what she’ll do. As soon as she stops staring into the jade glow of Kori’s eyes. Any second now.
“It was just a dance,” she says finally, the only words that will tumble faded out of her lips. “Humans – we do that. We just dance.”
“Right,” says Kori, sounding small for the first time ever. Donna hates that. She hates herself.
The song ends like a spell breaking, and Donna pulls away, tries to find a smile, manifestly fails. “You should find Dick, huh?” she says, hoping her voice sounds chipper rather than cracked. Kori’s eyes are sliding off her body, and Donna’s crossing the room before she can even think about it, heading out, just out, until finally she’s alone in a corridor and she can slam her head against the wall and let everything she can’t bear to see play out against her eyelids.
She’s on the roof, getting some air, when she hears the distinctive sound of a cape fluttering.
“Hey old timer, what brings you round here?”
Clark smiles, calm and friendly like he’s not rising up against the sunset like a god. “Looking for you, actually. Good thing I found you up here.”
“Yeah, otherwise I wouldn’t have been around for your ‘appear dramatically from the sky’ entrance.”
“I would have had to actually walk into the party,” he says mildly. “I think we both know that would be far less cool.”
“You could always fly in.”
“I don’t know, flying indoors just kind of feels like a douchebag move.”
She breaks first, cackling, and Clark grins back. Diana was always the guardian who didn’t care about your curfew or your drinking habits or your potential teenage tattoos, but Clark was the one who handed you extra cookies and snuck you your favourite fast food when you were in the hospital. Now that she’s doing it, now that she’s really walking away, sometimes the whole of her childhood swings back into sharp focus. A friend of her guardian bought her cookies when she broke her arm age twelve and oh yeah, that friend was Superman.
“Bruce said you’d show up and have a maudlin talk with me about how I was welcome back in the community at any time.”
Clark nods, unphased. “Well, he’s always been an asshole.”
She laughs, and he floats down and sits next to her on the roof. Just chilling casually with Superman. What even is her life?
“It’s not about being welcome back,” he says. “You don’t need me to give you any kind of blessing. You’re a hero in your own right.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here.”
He shrugs. “No but. Do you know what I was doing at your age?”
“Not really.”
“Well, I had just realised that I didn’t want to be a vet and was having a major panic about what I was meant to do with my life. And in my dumb-ass midwestern country-music-loving head, happiness sounded like living on a farm. And hey, I already lived on a farm! So I showed up at Ma and Pa’s door, fresh off my gap year, and announced that I’d worked it all out and I was going to live with them for the rest of my life.”
“Oh boy.”
“Yeah, for some reason I think I really expected them to be glad. Looking back, I think when they ‘went to look for some lemonade’ in the garage it was actually Ma telling Pa that it would all blow over soon, but I was so high on cloud nine I was way past noticing these things. Anyway, I pootle around on the farm for a bit, trying to convince myself that I’m just loving living in agricultural heaven, until Pa announces that he wants me to go get the bull into the next field. You ever seen a really massive bull?”
“Not really. I’ve fought a minotaur, though.”
“Hey, it’s not a competition. Anyway, Big Bastard – “
She chokes. “I’m sorry?”
Clark gives her a sly smile. “The bull. Always shortened to Big B within my hearing. Don’t tell Bruce that’s where the nickname came from, he’ll only get upset. But yeah, Big Bastard earned his name, so I’m there at the edge of the field – and bear in mind that I wasn’t totally confident about how strong I was at this point – trying to work out how to move around four-thousand pounds of beef with an attitude problem. But I’m a problem solver, right? So I figure I’ll just pick him up and fly him to the next field.”
“You wanted – you wanted to fly a cow?”
“Yeah, and it probably wouldn’t have gone too badly if I hadn’t tried to grasp him by the front end. I don’t know, I thought eye contact would keep him calm or something, and hey, horns can’t pierce my skin, right? Forgetting that they can pierce my dungarees, which means I get him about two feet up in the air and suddenly his horn is slicing through my clothes and getting trapped there.”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh yes. Anyway, I’ve faced down Darkseid and I’m still not convinced that I’ve ever seen anger like a bull who’s realising that the thing they just tried to gore will not be gored. So he’s thrashing and I’m trying to move with his head so I won’t accidentally plant myself and break his damn neck, all the while babbling in a baby voice, and I’m not paying attention so I’m twenty feet high now and Big B has resorted to kicking me as hard as he can when I hear a voice behind me saying ‘son, what the hell are you doing?’”
Donna is shaking with laughter. It's just Clark’s voice – mild and implacable, as if he was describing a trip to the grocery store.
“It’s Pa, of course. So I stare at him helplessly with half a bull’s head down my pants and have this – I don’t know, a moment of realisation – so I just say ‘Pa, I don’t think I’m cut out to be a farmer.’ And he looks at me, and then walks around in a circle rubbing his face, and eventually he just sighs and says, ‘Put down the damn bull, son.’”
Donna cackles like a fucking witch, and Clark shakes his head. “Big B’s never been the same,” he says tragically. “I think I traumatised a cow. Anyway, my point is – when you grow up like us, with powers, there’s all this pressure to sort yourself out earlier. Maybe a little bit less with me. I just grew up as an alien. You grew up a superhero. That’s got to be difficult in its own, fun way.”
“Maybe,” she says, not missing the way his mouth quivers when he says alien. It speaks of something long buried, and for a second the calm, adult Clark in front of her wavers and she sees instead a little boy in long shorts and glasses, wondering if he even counted as human.
Something must show on her face, because he frowns a little and nods at the ground. “But my point was – everyone needs that time. That bit in your late teens to early twenties when you’re just wandering around, trying to work out where you fit in. The best advice I can give is do what’s right for you now, and don’t worry about what that says about who you’ll be tomorrow. My plan was stupid as all hell, yes, but the night after the bull incident I sat down and banged out a response to a Daily Planet competition for a cub reported position. If I hadn’t gone toe to toe with Big B, would that have happened? I don’t know. But just – do whatever feels right for now.”
“Grasp life by the horns?”
He grins at her. “I probably deserve that. Also, your photography course sounds a lot more stable and steady than my three-month mental breakdown on a farm.”
“Dude, three months? I thought we were talking, like, a week here – “
“Donna?”
That’s Kori’s voice, and then Kori herself, floating up onto the roof. Donna’s mouth is suddenly dry.
“Aaaand that’s my cue to go, I think,” says Clark, dusting himself off as he rises.
“Oh, uh, you don’t – “
“Oh, Donna.” He leans forward conspiratorially. “I can hear your heartbeat. Kori, over here!”
Kori’s at their side in an instant, her grin blinding. “Hey! I need to talk to you.”
Clark grasps Donna’s shoulder. “I’ll go check out the rest of the party – “
“Uh, wait – “ says Donna, because Garth definitely bought a bong after last time.
“Don’t worry,” says Clark. “I can smell all the weed in the bay area at once. Who am I to say where exactly it’s coming from?” And then he winks and saunters away, pausing only to call ‘Hey Gar, what’s that smell? New cologne?’ as he goes down the stairs.
“He is such an asshole,” says Donna, marvelling and fond. “I have no idea how he gets away with it. I guess nobody ever believes it.”
“Oh, but he’s so kind,” says Kori, still staring wistfully after him.
Donna takes her in – her moony-eyed glance at Clark, the high orange blush on her cheekbones – and – no.
“Kori,” she says, trying to stifle her giggles. “Do you have a crush on Superman?”
“Princesses of Tamaran do not crush,” she says, with such wounded dignity. “I just – he’s a role model, he’s an alien too, and – “
“Oh my god, you do! You have a crush on Superman! You want to have his little superstrong babies!”
“Silence, silence now!” shrieks Kori, but Donna’s laughing too hard. “He can probably hear you, you know!”
“Oh, absolutely,” says Donna. “He’s probably spit-taking right now.”
It’s weird, because she should be jealous. That’s why she stormed out of the party a minute ago, right? But maybe it’s the warm glow of her conversation with Clark still burning under her skin. Maybe it’s Kori, pressed ankle to knee next to her. Maybe – and this is crucial – it’s because Kori isn’t down there with Dick.
“You’re not down there with Dick,” says Donna, like an idiot.
“No,” says Kori. “I did actually talk to him.”
“Oh.”
“Yes. I recounted our entire conversation, trying to work out where I’d gone wrong. And then Dick started laughing so hard I thought he was going to throw up.”
“Uh – go back to that ‘where you’d gone wrong’ bit – “
“In Dick’s words, ‘I never thought I’d say this about you, princess, but you may have been too subtle.’”
“Subtle,” says Donna, feeling like she’s been rung like a bell.
Kori shrugs. “I attempted to re-fit my flirting style to earth. And also – you’re my friend.” Her fingers spasm in her lap. “I wouldn’t want you to not like me. If I asked you on Tamaran and you said no then I know it would be fine, but you’re my friend and I live with you and you’ve been so kind to me and I didn’t know if I would be doing something wrong – “
Donna kisses her.
It’s a sweet, chaste kiss. For about all of two seconds. Then Kori gets the idea and starts kissing properly, all lips and hands running over Donna’s back and a truly, awesomely inhuman tongue. It’s the best kiss of Donna’s life. She’s never going to be able to keep up. No, fuck that – she’s done with self-restraint, with worrying about whether she measures up.
So she slings Kori onto her lap and just mauls her neck, and if the way Kori’s writhing against her and gasping for breath is any indication then she’s doing it right. She’s so tall – there’s so much of her, and strong too, strong enough to press Donna back until they’re horizontal off the edge of the roof, a crazy dangerous position if it was anyone but them. We could do this flying, thinks Donna, and that’s the last coherent thought she has because Kori’s taking Donna’s fingers and positioning them over her breast.
“Hera,” she gasps, everything washed away in the feel of Kori’s body, the hard planes of her muscles and the softness of her curves.
“Oh sick,” yells Jason fucking Todd. “Guys, girl on girl happening up here!”
Donna wakes to a cloud of orange hair tickling her nostrils, a bright pink ceiling and fifty different texts on her phone.
(She also wakes with a mild hangover. That’s neither here nor there.)
From Gar:
DUUUUUUUUUUUUDE!!!!!!!
I can’t believe I didn’t know you were gay.
I should have a better gaydar than this
I mean
I have an undercut
I have a septum piercing
Wait are all amazons gay bc
If so how soon can you get me a flight out there
Also I’m like crazy happy for you
Also? I didn’t get to have the drunk cathartic moment with you last night BUT
We’re gonna be friends for life however much you wear the tights or not
Can’t get rid of the ol’ Beast Boy
From Vic:
Wow who could have seen this coming
From Clark: Three thumbs up emojis and a laughing face.
From Roy: A series of emojis that are definitely too filthy for her to decipher.
From Diana:
I hear you are in a relationship! Bring her to the embassy Sunday, I’d love to properly get to know her.
From Dick:
Congratulations
Jsyk Jason is grounded for the rest of his life
Cannot believe I was almost accidentally in a love triangle with you
Gross
Let’s get brunch later this week. I want to hear all the goss
And from Wally:
Congratulations. Always remember that you deserve to be happy
Kori stirs sleepily next to her. “Is there an alert?”
“Nah,” says Donna, tucking her phone away. “Just our nosy friends being awful.”
Kori’s gaze is knowing. “They’re not just friends, are they?”
And Donna just smiles and rolls her over to kiss again (and again, and again, all morning and all the next week and for as long as they have each other) but she knows Kori is right.
The real word is family.