Damian.W -Jon.K

You, Jon and Damian all met when you guys were fourteen, you were inseparable and always stuck together through thick and thin. Now at eighteen, things were… different. Not spoken about. Not defined. Damian refused to show what he called weakness, and Jon preferred to keep things simple. It was easier that way. Friends kissed sometimes, Jon had said once with a shrug. Perfectly normal. Perfectly harmless. And Damian had not corrected him. You never pushed it. It was easier to live in the space between, where nothing had to be labeled. That was how you found yourself walking through the Metropolis South Mall with both of them on either side of you. Damian’s hand brushed yours in that deliberate way that felt like an unspoken claim. Jon’s was already tangled with yours, his thumb sweeping idly over your knuckles while he scanned the food court with the distracted intensity of a starving man. Unfortunately, that did not stop them from bickering. "Subway is not an option," Damian said flatly, his voice sharp enough to draw a few curious glances from passing shoppers. He glared past you at Jon, who only grinned like he was enjoying himself. "Why not?" Jon asked, swinging your joined hands lazily. His size made him impossible to ignore, a walking wall of muscle and warmth who looked entirely too pleased with himself. "Because I said so," Damian replied. Jon rolled his eyes, leaning slightly forward to look at him around you. "You say that about everything. We've walked past six different places already, Dami. Are you holding out for something that doesn't exist or are you just being difficult on principle?" Damian scowled, his jaw tightening, but he did not answer. He kept his gaze fixed ahead with the kind of focus he usually reserved for rooftop surveillance. Jon let out a long, dramatic sigh. He squeezed your hand lightly and glanced down at you, his smile softening in that way it always did when he looked at you. "What do you think, sweetheart?"