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Chris is thirteen when he decides he wants to be a Teen Titan.
Kon had been hinting at him joining for a while, and his parents are swamped enough with work that he’s actually considering it for once.
It’s not like Chris is unfamiliar with the Teen Titans. He came to Earth when they were already a well established capital-t Thing, and saw the team readjust, reform, and eventually split as its members joined, came, went, and moved on to better things. Or not so better things. He doesn’t keep track of enough of them to be sure.
His point is this; he knows who the Titans are and what they do. He knows several present and past Titans members on levels ranging from personal to passing familiarity.
That doesn’t mean Chris ever actually wanted to be one, though. He hadn’t really wanted to be a hero at all. He likes helping Dad, Kon, Tim, and anyone else that needs a Kryptonian-god-avatar flavoured hand, but he’s been disillusioned with the hero scene since he was eight.
Damian’s a hero, and doesn’t seem to have too much fun with it. Chris has a date three years from now penciled in red ink on his calendar; SEE IF DAMIAN WANTS TO QUIT AND LIKE, BE NORMAL OR SOMETHING. SUGGEST GETTING DEGREES LIKE HIS MOM?
Chris himself is mainly a hero because it’s a family profession and an obvious way to help people. He, genuinely, loves nothing more than helping people. It makes him feel like he’s giving back all the love this planet gave him, almost.
But the Titans…they’re all a lot older than him, and it’s just a new level of hero world entrenchment he wasn’t ready for. But after the fifth night in as many days that a harried Mom and very apologetic but stressed Dad tell him ‘They can’t hang out with him tonight, they really do need to get this story done, but they swear they’ll be home before one and will make it all up to him when they can. Okay? There’s their good kid. Kon’ll be around to hang out, make sure to look after him. Love you. Dinner’s in the fridge.’, Kon’s not-so-subtle nudges seem very appealing.
“Damn,” Kon says. “Fifth night in a row?”
“Yes,” Chris says, refusing to look up from his copy of The Inferno. It’s in the original Italian, because he finds reading stuff in its original languages makes it easier to understand.
“They told me how sorry they are,” Kon offers.
“Don’t lie to me.” Mom never says sorry when she’s busy and vexed. She does after, but not until she’s got the time to.
“Clark told me how sorry they both are,” Kon amends. There’s some shuffling, and he ruffles Chris’ hair. “C’mon Chris, look up at me.”
Chris obliges. Kon looks—not exactly apologetic, but soft. He’s wearing one of Dad’s old shirts, which makes Chris sniffle. “Aww,” Kon says. He nudges the book away and picks Chris up like he’s still seven. Chris presses his face into the shirt and inhales. “You miss them.”
“Yeah.” They’ll see him off to school and ask about his day and stuff tomorrow morning, like they have the past few days, but he misses them. He misses his parents.
“I’m sorry.” Kon starts walking around the apartment. It always feels cozy when Mom and Dad are here, but without them it feels cold and big. “That sucks.”
“I’m usually good at being alone for a little,” Chris says, muffled by Kon’s shirt. “But when it’s been too long I start thinking about when I was younger and had to be alone.” He fists a hand in the fabric of the shirt. It’s 86% cotton, the rest polyester except for 1% nylon. Kon runs warm like he does, and he flattens himself into him to seek it. “I’m a good kid.”
“You are,” Kon agrees. He presses his face into Chris’ hair and turns to not smack into the kitchen island. “Whenever I got lonely when I was younger, I went to Titans Tower and kind of just hung out there. There was always someone to chill with. You think hanging out with Damian would help a little?”
Chris snorts. “No.”
He likes Damian. And, more importantly, Damian likes him. He knows he’s good for Damian. Patience and balance and all that jazz. That doesn’t mean Damian will make him feel any less sad and lonely though. Busy, sure, distracted, definitely, and if Maya tags along, he may even laugh a little. But they’re not…good at that kind of thing, so Chris doesn’t ask it of them. “Is Tim free?” he asks.
“Out of the country,” Kon says mournfully. He starts on his third lap around the living room. “It’s so annoying. Like, c’mon, Rob.”
Chris mouths dutifully, ‘C’mon, Rob’. “But is he free?”
“He can be free,” Kon says. “Or you could hang out with your super cool awesome big brother instead.” He must feel the face Chris makes against his shoulder, because he laughs. “Or you could come with me to the Tower, I could probably get permission. It’s not too far.”
“Is Greta in Metropolis?” Chris asks instead.
“No, she’s back home.” Then Kon tsks, fake-disappointed. “You’d rather hang out with anyone than your poor old big brother? Wow.”
“You want me to go to San Francisco,” Chris says distastefully. Quietly, though. When it’s just him and Kon, he can get very quiet and still be heard. Kon tends to match it.
Kon huffs. “Everyone’s a critic. San Fran’s sick, dude. But I guess, since you’re picky, I can tell you the older Titans want to build a NY tower, just ‘cause. Could be cool.”
He hums. “Could be.”
The Titans. Teen Titans. Chris still can’t say he wants to be on a team with people six earth years or more his senior, just cause older people get weird about him being better at adult stuff than them, but if he had a team of people around the same age…
Damian’s a vigilante. Maya could probably be persuaded into categorizing herself as such. Suren, absolutely not, and probably for the best. He knows Arsenal and the Flash have got hero daughters around their age who are apparently really chatty nowadays, and he ran into and exchanged numbers with the new Green Lantern a month ago. They text each other photos and stories about non-Earth stuff they see and know about, but Tai’s been yearning for a stronger connection to the wider hero community. There’s a young hero running around Gotham who Damian even seems to be okay with. There’s probably other heroes their age who wouldn’t mind meeting up.
“You’re drawing a weird shape on my back,” Kon says. “What are we thinkin’ bout?”
“Dunno,” Chris says truthfully. Because cobbling together a Titans team just because he’s momentarily lonely would be stupid. Except, well, he knows Damian and Maya are lonelier than they’d like to admit. Tai is obviously stifled by the lack of hero peers. Arsenal and Flash’s kids have got each other, and last he checked that’s exactly how they like it, but that’s not that many people in the grand scheme of things. Also, socialization with many people from different walks of life is paramount to proper development in the adolescent stage. He informs Kon of such, who snorts.
“Sure is, bud.” He shifts Chris to his other arm and opens the fridge. “Dinner for us both? Don’t mind if I do.” He pauses, and Chris can imagine him scanning Dad’s careful reheating instructions. He makes a soft oh noise when he glances at the oven, then pulls out the food and pops it in. “Thanks for preheating the oven for me, kid. I barely even noticed it was on.”
“I know,” Chris says. He drums his fingers on Kon’s back. Even if he doesn’t go through with it, the idea is a good one. It makes him feel less lonely.
Chris kicks at the air from where he’s floating. Dad, without looking, reaches back to pat his head. He’s still deep in discussion with the Flash about something. Chris turns to where the people his age are.
Arsenal’s daughter has her arms crossed. “You could have told me.”
The Flash’s daughter just shrugs. “You know now. I figured since Tai wanted it, and I wanted it, why not just ask, y’know?”
“I could’ve helped make a stronger case!”
“Maybe, but not needed. Dad agreed, so it’s just a thing about organizing now. That’s why he’s talking to the big man.” Then she leans to the side and smiles right at him. “Hi!”
Chris smiles back at her, because if he tries to talk now it’ll come out Kryptonese and it should be English. He waves.
“I’m Irey!”
Chris nods. He thinks about talking, and decides to risk it. “Nightwing.” That’s a Kryptonian word.
Her smile doesn’t dim. “What about him?”
Chris forgets, sometimes, that the two Nightwing thing isn’t that well known.
“You should join,” Tim says.
Chris glances up from flicking through the pictures on Tim’s camera. “Join…?”
“The young Teen Titans,” he elaborates. “You’ll be good for them, y’know? Balance out the…strong personalities they’ve got going on.”
Chris grins. “You just want an inside source for all the drama ‘cause you know Damian won’t tell you.”
“And is that a crime?” Tim grins back at him, then ruffles his hair. “But seriously, kid. Think about it?”
Chris looks down and flicks through a few more of the photos in Tim’s camera. They’re half nature shots and half what look to be non-gory crime scene photos that Chris probably shouldn’t be allowed to see. He thinks about telling Tim that he’d been the one to suggest to Starfire, in passing, that maybe it’d be cool to leave the New York tower for a new generation. He thinks about telling Tim that Kon and Dad had both carefully suggested the same thing this week.
Chris flicks past a photo, then stops and goes back to it. It’s nothing special, just the S as a patch on the back of a jacket. It’s big and right in the middle. The photo’s lighting indicates that it was taken in a store. Tim probably only took a photo of it to show Kon and joke a little.
“I’ll join,” Chris says. He shows Tim the photo. “Can I have this? As in, as film?”
Tim’s lips twitch. “That?”
“Yeah,” Chris says. “Hope, y’know?” He doesn’t like how those words sound, so he switches to the Dutch dialect he knows Tim knows. “Hope.”
“Hope,” Tim says back. “No problem, Chris. I’ll get you the picture.”