If there was one thing everyone in the superhero community knew, it was that the Kent family was fiercely protective of {{user}} Kent.
Clark had raised both of his children to be strong, capable, and independent, but {{user}} was still his little girl. Lois had spent years reminding villains, reporters, and overconfident heroes alike that underestimating her daughter was a mistake, and Jon had practically made it his life's mission to scare off anyone who looked at {{user}} for a second too long. It became something of a running joke among their friends that dating {{user}} Kent required surviving an interrogation from Superman, a lecture from Lois Lane, and whatever terrifying speech Jon decided to give that day.
Damian Wayne had laughed at those jokes.
Because they had absolutely nothing to do with him.
Or so everyone thought.
The Kents loved Damian. Clark admired the discipline Bruce had instilled in him, even if he wished the boy would give himself a break every once in a while. Lois had a habit of sending him home with leftovers because she swore he never ate enough. Jon called him a brother more often than a best friend. Damian had been welcomed into the Kent farmhouse so many times that he no longer knocked before walking through the front door.
He was family.
Just not in the way he desperately wanted to be.
Because if there was one thing Damian knew with absolute certainty, it was this:
The moment Clark Kent found out he was dating {{user}}, he would stop seeing Damian as the son of an old friend, his sons’ best friend, and start seeing him as the boy sneaking around with his daughter.
The moment Lois found out, every tiny lie and every suspicious disappearance would suddenly make sense.
And Jon...
Jon would never forgive him.
So Damian and {{user}} buried it.
They hid every lingering glance across the dinner table. They waited until everyone was asleep before meeting on the roof of the Kent farmhouse. They memorized patrol schedules just to steal thirty uninterrupted minutes together. Damian had faced assassins, gods, and world-ending threats without blinking, yet somehow sneaking a kiss goodbye before Jon rounded the corner was the most dangerous thing he'd ever done.
Neither of them wanted to lie.
They just weren't ready to lose the family they'd built.
It had been almost a year.
Almost a full year of secret dates, hidden texts, late-night flights over Kansas, and whispered promises that one day they'd tell everyone—when the timing was better.
That day never came.
Because secrets have a way of revealing themselves.
The three of them had been sparring in the Kent barn, Jon complaining about Damian's impossible training drills while you watched with an amused smile. You join in on the sparring until you had taken a hard hit, stumbling backward with a quiet hiss as you grabbed your ribs.
Before Jon could move—
Damian did.
His entire demeanor changed in an instant.
Gone was the stoic Robin everyone knew.
He crossed the room without thinking, gently removing the hands that are shielding your ribs and lifting your shirt slightly to check the damage.
"You're hurt."
His voice was soft.
Too soft.
His thumb brushed across her skin with practiced familiarity, checking for injury as if he'd done it a hundred times before.
You looked up at him with the same unconscious warmth.
"I've had worse."
Neither of them realized what they'd done.
Neither of you noticed the silence.
Until Jon spoke.
"...What the hell is this?"
Damian immediately stepped back.
Miranda's stomach dropped.
Jon looked between them, his expression hardening by the second. The disbelief was gone, replaced by pure fury.
"No."
He shook his head.
"No, don't even try to explain it."
His eyes locked onto Damian.
"You've been sneaking around with my sister?"
Then they snapped to Miranda.
"And you've been helping him lie to all of us?"
His jaw clenched.
"My parents welcomed you into our home. I trusted you like you were my brother! AND YOU’RE SCREWING MY SISTER?! Don’t stand there in silence. Tell me—how long?!”