One of the perks to dating the Boy Wonder… creative flexibility. And an insatiable dedication to the practice.
Robin stares down at the fuzzing static of a once-conversation, a once-heated-conversation, on his oversized communications wristwatch, and then slams it against his forehead in a sort of silent, sullen punishment. Superboy is confounded. He walks over to grasp his companion's wrist when his head lowers to repeat the process, gently unwrapping his fingers when Robin nods his head at him.
"…How did he find out?" Superboy understands that the question he is asking is somewhat ineffective. This is Batman of all people.
The other teenager absently rubs the reddening mark on his wrinkling forehead with the palm of his free hand, cringing at the embarrassing weight of his own words.
"He apparently heard us."
Superboy fidgets in place a moment. How could he not fidget? Wasn't that what someone normally did when they were anxious before an important meeting?
On the large monitor in the lobby, a particularly grumpy (well, grumpier) looking Batman stares straight into his blue eyes. Stares straight into his soul. The lobby is emptied of any of his teammates. No one wants to be a victim of crossfire. Robin is ordered to stay out of it ("for the time being"— his boyfriend assures him, and the other boy shoots a semi-dirty and masked glare towards the monitor).
"So…" The older superhero begins with what sounds like a relatively composed tone, and Superboy hopes it feels welcome enough to stay, "…you are …dating… one of your male teammates?"
"Dating someone I consider my protégé and my partner."
With a little less vigor, but uneasy about what might happen if he broke eye contact, Superboy nods once more slowly.
"Dating someone I consider a son."
There is the kicker.
Batman's voice drops to a lower and more protective growl. As moving as it might be to see the Caped Crusader acting as such, Superboy did not want to be on the receiving end. His hands twitch in his lap and Superboy wills them to still. He takes in a deep, cleansing breath when Batman is the one to look away, down at the glowing keyboard in front of him and appearing to busy himself.
"How long?" Batman's frown deepens in an untraceable emotion as he adds offhandedly, "And I don't believe I need to ask how advanced the nature of your relationship is…"
A slightly mortified blush when he mumbles, "Two and a half years." Superboy grimaces but refuses to be yanked around any further. "Batman, I have no intentions of hurting him. We—"
"Good. Because I have no intentions on letting this go on long enough to find out whether or not that sentiment is true—"
Superboy's fists curl in. His jaw clenches. His expression reads anger but his insides have warped themselves into a sickly, jellied puddle at the pit of his gut.
"—and I would say this indefinitely if I didn't care to trust in Robin's decision-making skills." Batman, staring up again, sounds mildly defeated and no longer cynical. "This…this doesn't come between your roles as a team. Just because I have given my consent for now doesn't mean either of you can jeopardize your missions or the safety of your team during them."
Consent. Superboy's jaw softens from clenching. His stomach calms. Consent.
He has to stifle the oncoming smile that endangers his chances of escaping without any more reprimanding. "It won't."
"I'll be the one to monitor that."
Is it a trick of the light either in the lobby or the Batcave… or did Batman's frown just morph into something less harsh…?
"We'll keep in touch, Superboy."
In the second floor corridor, Kid Flash glances out of his bedroom to give Superboy a weak smile and a thumbs up. His emerald eyes try to examine him for good news or catastrophic mental damage. When Superboy returns the gesture and smile in passing, he grins and comes out of his room to slap him on the back encouragingly, before going the opposite direction down the carpeted corridor.
Superboy heads from the training room where he can hear the creaking punching bag and familiar panting. Robin's fists thumping rapid-pace against the dusty, red punching bag are heavily taped. The sinewy muscles in his shoulders and arms flex and loosen rhythmically, exposed from being shirtless. Sweat shines and gathers down the length of his back, rolling invisible to the human eye, but Superboy can (thankfully) observe every motion that is placed, possibly hidden by the ugly, gray track pants. Robin bounces on his heels for another round until he notices his boyfriend in the corridor.
"Hey," he says concerned, wiping his face and his dripping black bangs, "…Can I ask how it went?"
"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Superboy's smile is teasing and laughing.
Robin retaliates by chucking his towel at his head, easily duckable. He does. Superboy's hands find the sides of Robin's lean waist, sliding against the hot, sweat-slippery flesh.
"Feel like celebrating any time soon?"
I do not have the written deed to Young Justice in my hands right now. Dammit it all... if I did... erm. Reviews are dead sexy. Like DC slash. Come oooooo~ooon... you know you waaaaa~aaaanna... ;D
Prompt from yjaonmeme: "Superboy/Robin, Batman gives Superboy the you're dating my son talk."