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puppiesandnightlock · 7 months

Text

Link Nightwing and Flamebird

Aggggggghhhhhh this is the prompt i was so excited for!!! its my favorite one out of all of them!!

Summary: Its a masquerade ball and Jon is ready...if only he could find who he was supposed to be matching with.

i.e. damian and jon went matching to the gala but damian failed to mention who they were going as and they dance and its really cute.

A/N:

so, just a disclaimer, even tho i did do my reseach on the flamebird and nightwing thing and obviously ive read a shit ton of fics thta deal with this, im shortening it incredibly and switching up some things bc i have to fit it in the context its used for in this story anyways this is the prompt i was most excited for bc yassss masqurade ball and i almost made it a royalty one but at the last minute did this lol

If anyone would have asked Jon, he would tell them that everything that happened that night was completely Damian’s doing.

It started off simple enough, when the Kents had gotten an invite to the annual Wayne gala. He hadn't thought much of it, they were invited every year, his parents called to cover the event by the Planet.

Jon had completely forgotten about it until a week before, when his brother waltzed in one night and asked him what he was going to be for the masquerade ball.

“W-What?” He’d sputtered.

“Yeah, you know the ball Tim’s family puts on? We’re going as demons and angels.” Kon had said, laying in the air with his hands behind his head in a resting position.

“They didn’t tell me that!” Jon whipped out his phone and began spamming Damian with questions until his phone started ringing.

“ Honestly, corncob, must you do this now?”

The familiar annoyed tone drawled through the phone speaker.

“Uh, yeah! What the actual heck am I supposed to go as?”

The two boys could hear the eye roll through the phone, followed by the usual “tt '' of disappointment.

“ Calm yourself Jonathan, if it worries you so much, you can simply go matching with me. I’ll send something over in your measurements tomorrow, assuming they’re still the same from a few months ago .”

“Fine. What are we going to be?”

“ I think I'll let that be a surprise. I’ll see you next week, Jon.”

The phone clicked, signaling the end of the call.

“You see, your boyfriend has your back.”

Kon ruffled his hair, ignoring the angry screeches of “ He’s not my boyfriend, Connor!! You know what he is? He's a flaming piece of sherbet!”

“Still can’t swear.” He chuckled, zooming out the window.

The fact that Damian wouldn't tell him didnt stop the flow of guesses coming from the farmboy.

He pulled the worst guesses after a while, disappointed when even the best ones had been vetoed. The sun and moon one had come close, Damian had nearly smiled when he said it so that was close at least.

When the night of the gala came, he stepped into his room only to be greeted by an intricate box tied with a ribbon on his bed.

Opening it, he found a black suit, flames running up to his elbow from the cuffs, the suit otherwise black but illuminated by the colors of the sleeves.

The mask was built up with intricate patterns of gold, and when he put it on, it gave the picture of wearing fire itself.

Gasping, he stumbled a little, pulling it off before placing it delicately back in the box. As he took the suit out to put on after a shower, he noticed a paper floating out from under it. He snatched it midair and noticed Damian’s elegant script.

“ You have your half, now you will have to come find me. No powers, by the way.”

Of course he couldn't just tell me what we were doing. This is fire, right? What's the opposite of fire?

He dressed, finding in pleasant surprise that the coattails of the jacket had the same flames his cuffs did, cut in an odd jagged pattern. As he spun in the mirror, they flared out, almost resembling…dragon wings?

He picked up the mask again, noticing the way it curved down on his face, resembling a snout.

An idea began to form, it was if he had all the pieces of a puzzle but couldn't yet fit them together.

His parents had insisted on pictures, marveling at the suit and mask.

“Damian must have designed this himself. It has his mark of dramatics.” Lois traced the fire on the sleeve.

“What is he going as?” Clark asked as they got into the car that had gone to pick them up.

“He hasn't told me. I’m supposed to guess.” Jon rolled his eyes, the concept stupid to him.

Per usual, they were swarmed like celebrities themselves exiting the car, Lois and Clark mixing into the crowd as Jon stood alone at the top of the ballroom's large staircase, scanning the room of masks.

He caught Kon and Tim in the corner, both dressed in matching suits of deep red and soft white.

Dick had a redhead on his arm, as usual(choose your ship), matching sun and moon. Jason was hidden away by the refreshments, Duke following behind him. Steph and Cass were out on the dance floor, with coordinated dresses like the queens they were.

Tired, he gravitated towards the refreshments and fought the urge to run a hand through his slicked curls.

As he looked up, his gaze landed on a man there, sipping from a glass of champagne with an amused smirk on his face.

His suit was a deep navy, almost black, with a thick light blue stripe making up the design. The coattails were a familiar dragon wing shape. It suddenly clicked in his mind who they were supposed to be, and without a second thought, he strode over and offered the shorter man his hand.

“Care to dance?”

Damian’s green eyes twinkled at him as he set down his flute to take his hand.

“Took you long enough.”

They swept out onto the dance floor, brushing by Steph and Cass, who winked at them and shot thumbs up to Damian behind Jon’s back.

He huffed and turned back to Jon, the flaming colors of his mask making his eyes stand out like icy blue pools.

The song played on, and Jon leaned in to whisper.

“Nightwing and Flamebird, huh?”

“Mhm. You were rather close with your sun and moon theory, and the fire and ice as well.”

They spun, transitioning into formal waltz.

“Never thought you’d go with an old kryptonian legend. They were partners, the best of the best. Soulmates. Flamebird kept Nightwing from falling too far into the dark, and nightwing vowed to be by his side forever.”

“Lovers.”

Jon nearly tripped over his own shoes. “What?”

“They were lovers, if I'm not mistaken.”

“Y-yeah, that too.” He grinned suddenly. “Dami, are you a romantic ?”

“No! The very thought is appalling, I would never stoop to such a level of meaningless gibberish.”

Being the little shit he was, Jon listened to the skip in his c̶r̶u̶s̶h̶ best friend’s heart as he dipped him slightly, bringing his face closer.

“I think you are.”

“So that’s the way you wanna play it, Kent?”

Damian hitched a leg over his waist, doing a specific movement to the beat of the music and smirking at his blush.

“Because you’re sure to lose.”

“We’ll see about that, bat boy.”

The world around them became blurry, the only thing in the room being the two of them and the rhythm of the music.

One moved, and the other tried to top it. They wove it all together in a beautiful dance, daring each other with the way they moved, the sly grins and glints in their eyes the only words they needed.

The goal was to make each other as flustered as possible, and every gasp, blush, and breathy laugh was a prize. As the music began to slow, they spun out, back in, and into a low dip, panting heavily.

A flush of exhaustion brushed their cheeks, sweat beaded on their foreheads. For a moment, their surroundings had frozen, and there was just them. All the unspoken emotions, the words missed for years had somehow been spilled out in simple dance, and they were shook, the only thing snapping them out of it was the applause that sounded once they’d stopped dancing.

Quickly they stumbled apart, smoothing their suits and giving a nervous bow as the gala goers clapped, having watched the whole exchange.

Grabbing Damian’s hand, he led them through the crowd that had gathered to watch them, ending up in the hallway of the manor.

Green eyes twinkled at him as he began trying to speak, stuttering out a long drawn confession speech he’d made somewhere around five years ago.

“For the love of- Get over here, Corncob.”

Damian tugged his shirt collar, reaching up on his toes to press his lips against the others.

The flush returned, more prominent than before.

“I-ah…the feeling is mutual, then?” Jon squeaked, mentally slapping himself for such a stupid response.

“Quite.” A pink color was dusting the caramel complexion of the shorter boy as well.

Grinning, he bent to place a kiss on the smaller boy’s cheek, taking his hand. “What do you say we get out of here, then?”

“I’d say yes.”

*********************************************************************

for @super-sons-week-2023

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