#oc. kon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

puppiesandnightlock · 5 months

Text

Link to Ao3: A Robin's Song

Summary: Since diapers, Jon and Damian have been best friends. Accidentally encouraging jon to go ask out a girl, damian must now deal with the consequences of pushing his what he thinks are unrequited feelings down. He turns to music to vent, posting under an anonymous online username "Robin".

What he was not expecting, was for the music to blow up, leaving him internet famous, and his feelings out in the open.

and Jon is completely clueless.

A/N: THIS IS A REVERSE ROBINS AU AGES R: Damian is 17 Duke is 16 Tim is 14 Steph is 13 ½ Cass is 12 Jason 10 ¾ Dick is 5 Jon is 18 Kon is 14 Bart is 13 Wally(will be mentioned eventually) is 5 Roy(also will b mentioned eventually) is 11

Based on this post by @jaybirbie

December 3, five weeks before.

“Can’t believe you, Mr. Jonathan-its-under-fifty-degrees-please-wear-a-jacket, didn’t wear the biggest coat you could find today.” Jon snorted, rifling through his closet.

Damian’s bronze skin was dusted with a pretty pink as he scowled, a knitted green sweater and black skinny jeans his only defense against the cold.

“It’s a weekend, Jon, I had no intention to go out, and I let Duke take the big jacket because he was going out with friends.”

Jon hummed sympathetically before pulling out the next sweater he had, his letterman.

“Try this on, Dames.”

“I don’t think it’ll be that warm.” Damian eyed it skeptically. Jon gave him a look, and he scoffed, shrugging it on anyway.

“Looks better on you than me.” Jon cackled, snapping a quick picture.

The sleeves went past his hands, the jacket going down to his mid-thigh. Damian was drowning in a sea of warm fabric, and for a moment he was lost, inhaling deeply and smelling the fabric softener Jon’s mom used, a hint of the cologne he stole from his father, and a smell that was utterly Jon. Just Jon. His best friend, and definitely nothing more. Never…anything more.

“Dami?” Jon croaked nervously, silence taking over the room.

Damian snapped out of his little dream world and flushed red, scrambling to take it off and hand it back. “Way too big.”

“Is it normal for you to smell clothing?” Jon raised an eyebrow, was that a small, miniscule burst of pink on his cheeks?

No, stop messing with your own emotions, Damian.

Damian turned his nose up and scowled. “Yes, when was the last time you washed that thing?”

“Hey! It’s clean, thank you!” Jon shot back indignantly, but not before sniffing it quickly, just to make sure.

His friend snorted, before putting on the light jacket he’d brought over his knitted sweater.

“We can just stay home and watch tv or something,” he offered.

“Should I put on Glee?”

“I’ll grab some cocoa.”

Five weeks after.

“What a sight for sore eyes.” Jon sighed, slumping against his locker. Damian looked up, shutting his as he grabbed his books.

“Your locker?”

Jon let out a breathy chuckle. “No. Her .”

He followed his gaze to a girl walking down the hall, laughing with a group of girls. Some wore a cheerleading outfit, but she wore a skirt with leggings, white shirt, and a low cardigan. Her skirt and sweater were varying shades of blue, and when she opened her eyes, one could see her eyes were as well.

Thick pieces of brown hair fell to her hips, two long layers framing her face, slightly shorter bangs parted in the middle of her forehead.

And with one glance, he could already tell. Jon was utterly enamored with her.

“What’s her name?” Damian asked quietly.

“Haisley. She’s one of the cheerleaders, and god, her voice when she sings. Angels, Damian, I swear to you she’s what angels sound like.”

Every word out of Jon’s mouth was ripping him to shreds and he fought the sudden urge to scream. Instead he swallowed hard, spitting out words like they had done him personal harm.

“You should go talk to her.”

Stop, Damian, don't do this to yourself.

“I’m sure you’ll get on very well, she looks sweet.”

Jon went pale. “Oh, God, she’s coming this way! Damian, what if I screw up?”

“Jon, it's a simple greeting. Say hi, I’m Jon, I’ve seen you around, then blah blah, say something charming. You’re good at that.”

He said it so dismissively, it nearly convinced himself that he didn't actually care. His taller friend inhaled sharply before meeting her halfway. Before he made it to her, she was tripped by something, and dropped her books. Being the good boy he was raised to be, he rushed over to help.

Damian winced as Jon said something to make her laugh, his pale complexion flushing crimson at the sound.

Fighting off the stupid emotions, he kept his head down and sped out of the hallway.

What had he done?

Present day.

Third wheel again.

It was lunch, and instead of the usual eating under the big oak in the courtyard of their high school, Damian was stuck between Haisley and Jon, trying not to scowl as they chattered and flirted.

It was disgusting, frankly, and never failed to make his appetite disappear.

He had long since stopped trying to join their conversations, always drowned out by the “we’re-not-together-yet-Dames” couple.

“I’m just going to throw my tray away.” He called loudly over their talking, the only acknowledgement that he received was a thumbs up from Jon and a sweet smile thrown his way by Haisley.

Never one to waste food, he tucked the remaining packaged snacks and apple in his backpack before returning.

Before he made it to the table, he saw Jon draping his letterman over Haisley. The same one he’d been given on that cold day. Bile rose in his throat as he saw her lean her head tentatively on his shoulder, watching as Jon grew flustered, and just as hesitantly, wrapped an arm around her.

Damian suddenly felt as if he’d stumbled across something private, and hastily turned and walked away.

The walk turned into a run, and suddenly he was in the library, holed up in a corner as he cursed the sniffles he got.

This is hardly something to cry over , he scolded himself. I knew it was never going to happen.

He stayed in the little corner until the bell had rung, sketches of characters that didn't exist pouring over his sketchbook.

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

Walking home had always been something held to high regard for Damian these last few weeks since Haisley arrived. The only time he could have Jon to himself like he used to. These moments were treasured now, more than ever.

“Where’d you go at lunch, Dami?” Jon asked, strolling along the sidewalk.

“The library. There was a book I wanted to check out.” He said smoothly.

“Where is it then?”

“Oh, they didn't have it, so I had to put it on hold. I must have gotten distracted looking at the other ones.”

Yes, he had precrafted a story or five to tell.

“Did I miss anything important?”

“No, not really.” Jon let out a whoosh of air. “Just that I may actually be falling in love with Haisley.”

Hurt struck him like glass daggers to his heart, but years over playing games with his brothers had ensured he had an absolutely stellar poker face.

His mask of indifference washed over him as he responded with a tremor to his tone.

“Is that so? What makes you think that?”

“Gosh, she’s so pretty, for one.”

Damian’s stomach twisted, and he spoke. “So, is it just physical? That’s not love, Jon, that’s a crush.”

“Wha-? No, I'm not done. She’s sweet, kind, and funny. She can actually have a snarky side if you hang around her enough. She has a good heart, and I know my parents would approve. Besides, do I gotta mention all the other stuff? The way her eyes get all squinty when she laughs, her smile, all the blue. I look good in blue, don’t I? We could match~”

Jon continued gushing and at the corner, Damian clapped him on the shoulder and declared with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes that he was happy for him.

“You sure, D? You don’t look too excited.” Jon seemed worried.

“Course, J, I only want you to be happy. If you're happy, I'm happy. Just…this won’t come between us, right?”

He would die before he let their friendship burn, even if that meant he had to keep his distance.

“Never. You're my best friend, Damian. We’ll always be like this won’t we? Forever?”

“Yeah. Forever.” Damian swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and breathed a sigh of relief as he hit the row of small houses.

“My stop. See you tomorrow.”

Before he could hear the response, he scurried away and across the street to the little tired house on the corner.

He unlocked the door and shut it behind him, slumping against it. The inside of the house was warm and cozy, the smell of cooking food making it homey.

When he opened his eyes, he could see his oldest younger brother, Duke, in the kitchen, the old yellow apron they had tied around his waist.

“You okay, Dames?” Duke set the pan down and lowered the fire, moving to help him up.

“Peachy.” He responded, letting himself be pulled upwards.

He hung up his coat and backpack and tried a smile, which Duke returned sympathetically.

Marching into his room, he starfished across his small bed and screeched into the pillow.

“✨Anger issues✨” Was hummed from above him.

Grumbling, Damian launched his pillow towards the person, his mood lifted slightly as he heard an “oof-” as the pillow hit his target.

“My dear menace to society.” Damian grinned as the pillow was thrown back and a black haired head popped up from the top bunk of the bunkbeds next to him.

“How was imprisonment for you today?”

“Fine, fine, I won't bore you with details .” The teen waved his hand dismissively, before raising an eyebrow.

“How was your day, is the question we should all be asking if you came in here and tried to summon a demon with those screams.”

“And summon a demon, I did.” Damian gestured upwards to his little brother.

“Asshole.”

“Swear Jar.”

A quarter was thrown at his face.

“I’m serious, I'm fairly certain you and Duke are the ones who pay like half the bills from just the jar.”

“Shut up.” Tim stuck his tongue out, Damian returning the gesture.

“Kon told me Jon got a girlfriend.” His tone softened. “Are you okay?”

The crush was well known between the three oldest brothers and Cass, and it was often used as a teasing device, if not them actually trying to convince Damian to say something.

“Fine. And they’re not together yet, tell Connor to get his facts right.” he waved off his brother’s concerns.

Tim looked at him, seeing directly past the lie, however, knowing better, he kept his mouth shut.

“You should write,” He said instead. ”Healthy venting.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Nonetheless, Damian followed his advice and took out a writing pad, proceeding to stare at the blank page for the next half hour until his youngest siblings and father arrived home, much like the author of this fic.

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

After dinner, everyone lounged around the living room, chattering and doing activities with each other.

Dick bounced onto the couch next to Damian and turned on the biggest puppy eyes he could muster.

“Dami?”

“Dickiebird?”

“Will you play for us?”

Damian inhaled sharply. It had been awhile since he’d touched his guitar, but it still remained one of his younger brothers favorite pastimes.

“I’m a little rusty, but I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try.”

He went and grabbed it, repositioning himself back on the couch. His siblings paused in their activities to watch.

Hesitantly he tunes and strums, before playing around with some notes. Finding he quite liked the pattern, he continued with the slow melody, switching it up and returning it.

“I’ve never heard this song before.” Steph turned her head to the side, pausing in painting Cass’s nails.

Jason bookmarked the page in his book and tore a page from one of Damian’s sketchbooks, coming to sit in front of Damian.

“Can you play that again? It was really pretty.”

He repeated it, again and again until the tune swirled around the house, bringing everyone into the song.

The kids had made a small circle around the couch, Bruce putting down his newspaper in favor of listening to his eldest.

There was nothing in his heart that spoke of pain and longing, all poured into the melancholy melody surrounding them.

When he came back to the present, the paper Jason had torn was covered in little scribbles.

Music notes.

“Timmy helped, but these were the ones that we got, so that you can play that again sometime.”

“Please play it again!” Dick chirped.

“ Very beautiful.” Cass agreed out loud, trying to sign, but stopped by the wet paint on her nails.

“You should write lyrics!” Duke suggested. “I can help!”

The rest of the evening was spent curled in the living room, Damian writing furiously and Duke helping him make things flow, Tim leaning over occasionally and remarking how similar they sounded to Damian's own predicament.

Damian was subjected to yet another day watching “Jaisley” as Tim and his group of friends, Duke, and if he was honest, he called it that as well, pine after each other.

If he had to hear the words “She’s an angel, D.” in a lovestruck tone one more time, his father would have to pick him up at the local police station for arson and vandalism.

Luckily, his savior came in the form of one Duke Wayne, who magically showed up almost every time Damian was on the brink. Today was his full school day, so he walked with Jon and Damian back home, wincing everytime Jon opened his mouth to gush about Haisley.

“Well, fuck.” Duke muttered as they walked into the house, dropping a quarter into the large jar as they did.

“It’s bad.” Damian sighed. “It’s fine, it’s fine. I can sweep this under the rug, it’ll be fine.”

“Dames-” his brother started, before Tim came barreling through the door.

“Bye guys!” He screamed from the porch, two boys and a girl waving back at him.

Shutting the door, he turned to his older brothers. “We gonna record?”

Damian crossed his arms, staring up at his taller (only by a few inches!) little brother.

“Wonderful idea, Timothy.”

He stalked towards the room, overhearing Tim whisper to Duke. “ He called me Timothy, was it really that bad?”

“Worse, dude. Wayyyy worse.”

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

Damian was wearing an oversized black hoodie with yellow lining, a dark green domino mask from an old halloween costume, and had left his hair out in a way rendered mostly unrecognizable to most of his school peers.

Tim screwed around with the beat-up old laptop they’d salvaged awhile back, and a suspiciously high-quality recording mic.

He would ask where it came from later.

The three brothers threw out some song requests for Damian to warm up, and then began recording.

After the third take, they stopped.

“Dami, you sound monotone. Like you’re rehearsing a line and we have you at gunpoint behind the camera.”

“Sorry.” Damian flushed.

Duke spoke up. “This is your song, your story. Try singing it how you feel, like you’re watching them and monologuing internally.”

He chewed his bottom lip, nodding. “Can we try again?”

Tim smiled, counting down.

This time, he shut his eyes, letting the soft strumming of the guitar take him back to the moment when he felt his heart break for the first time.

He floated away into the memories of them on the cold December day, to when they saw Haisley for the first time, to just recently listening to the voice he loved to hear pine for someone else.

The tune flowed around him, lifting him up into the song until he was nearly sobbing with the pain of reliving those painful moments, pouring all he had into the few minutes.

When he hit the final notes, he let the tears building up catch in the mask, a few stubborn ones slipping past the white out eyes and being hastily scrubbed away as Tim stopped recording.

The silence was loud, and nervously, Damian spoke up. “Should we retake?”

“That was perfect, Damian.”

“God, I could have cried. That is how this song was meant to be sung, and I'll be damned if this doesn't blow up by next week.”

“SWEAR JAR!” Tim and Damian chorused.

“I’m giving compliments.” Duke grumbled.

Tim stuck his tongue out and Damian skimmed the top of his guitar with his fingers gently.

“I…I don't think I want it to blow up too much. These are my feelings, and to be honest I wouldn't be surprised if they find out it's me just by the words.”

“I guess.” Tim shrugged, going over the footage in his computer, and tweaking with the picture and turning the sound up over the videos, adding subtitles with the lyrics.

“Your old profile pic is that symbol you drew a few years ago. Do you wanna keep it?”

It was a bubble letter R in dark colors of green and red, a hint of yellow making it pop. Damian studied it before nodding.

“Yes. I'd like to keep it.”

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

They had played the song after dinner, the family applauding at the end. Tim posted it online with everyone onlooking, and although Damian claimed he didn’t care much about any of it, he sent the link to Kon, and asked him to pass it along to his older brother.

And if he hacked into a few accounts to put the link in their recommendations, who would know but him?

…And the FBI agent that Bernard from across the street told him was watching the computer, despite using a VPN.

It was for a good cause anyways.

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

BIG HUGE THANKS TO MY AMAZING BETA READERS FOR THIS CHATPER @robbed-ghost and @redasuree !!!!!!!!!!!