Chapter Text
Something was wrong.
Damian resisted the immediate urge to snap open his eyes and jump out of the bed he was lying in. This wasn't Damian's bed. His bed had a stiffer mattress and definitely didn't have the cotton sheets this one had. He wasn't even sure this was his house, considering the lack of the slightly annoying, albeit reliable, 'Gotham ambiance'. There were no sirens, no honking cars, not even rain. Only the faint sound of his own breath.
Where was he? And how did he even get here?
He noted that he wasn't restrained in any way, and the clothes he was wearing were too soft to be his Robin costume (uniform he mentally corrected himself. He’s been spending way too much time with Jon). That ruled out being taken by a criminal while he was out as Robin.
It was also unlikely that he had been moved from his bed without being woken. The manor was perhaps the most secure place in the world, so there were no chances of a break-in. That, and neither his father nor siblings would be able to even enter his room and move him without him waking up.
Exhausting his immediate theories, Damian decided that punching someone first and asking questions later was the best way to handle this situation. If that someone happened to be one of his siblings, then he'd just have to apologize (unless it was Drake, who likely deserved it).
In one swift and fluid motion, Damian jumped off the bed, opening his eyes, and landed in a fighting stance. The thick comforter that had been covering him, dawned with a Superman logo, was now thrown onto the floor.
Damian let out an irritated sigh as he relaxed his muscles and dropped his stance. He was in Jonathan's room. Good, that answered one question.
He scanned the room, finding no signs of Jonathan and no signs of any of his gear. That made a small, uneasy pit form in Damian's stomach. He never left his home without at least his utility belt, and he always kept it close by.
It was also the middle of the night, and Jon wasn't the type to wake up until well into the morning.
Pushing his unease down, Damian subconsciously replaced it with anger. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now. He took a lap around the room, making sure he hadn't missed something, but it was nothing but futile. He needed to expand his search, which meant he needed to get into the rest of the house.
Slipping quietly out of Jonathan's bedroom, he crept around the Kent's apartment searching for any signs of why he was there. He didn't exactly mean to walk silently; it was more of a habit he didn't see a point in breaking due to his line of work. If he happened to scare Jonathan by sneaking up on him, that was just a happy little accident.
The house was dark, only illuminated by the soft light from the moon seeping through the windows. He did a full sweep of most of the house (sans the Kent's bedroom, of course. Damian didn't want to test whether he could sneak around Superman...yet) and found nothing. No gear, no explanation about why he was here, and no Jonathan Kent.
That uneasy feeling began creeping its way back into Damian's stomach and into his chest. He had definitely fallen asleep in his own bed the previous night, so how and when did he end up in Jon's house? As if an act of betrayal by his own body, Damian began to hear his footfalls become louder with each step. No matter how quiet he tried to be, every move he made was five times louder than he wanted it to be.
Damian slowly began retreating through the main room back to Jonathan's room, hoping that moving slowly would make up for his poor stealth. And, allowing paranoia to best him, he glanced around frequently to make sure no one had heard him.
That's when he noticed the mirror. Or, rather, who he saw in the mirror staring back at him.
Staring back at him were a pair of blue eyes and a shocked expression that mirrored his own. He stood there, motionless, for a solid five minutes, Jonathan's reflection mirroring his stock stillness. Damian would have mocked him about the cheesy Superman-themed pajamas he was wearing. That was, until he looked down and revealed that was what Damian himself was wearing.
This wasn't a nightmare; Damian knew his nightmares well, and this wasn't it. This was real, and Damian couldn't decide if that was better than this just being a dream. He wanted to scream, to run out of the apartment with fury and figure out how he got put in this position and promptly stab it, but he only clenched his fists.
Shifting his eyes back up, Damian was met with a dark glare from Jon. He shifted, slightly surprised and equally unsettled by that look in his friend's eyes, Jonathan's reflection mirroring every move. Damian guessed that answered question two, but only with another question.
Why the hell is he in Jon's body?
He turned on his heel and stormed back to Jonathan's room, his skillful silence now regained (or rather, his newly discovered super hearing under control). Entering and locking the door behind him, he began looking for Jon's phone. It was easy enough to find, lying on the nightstand by his bed, and it was easier to open and find what he wanted. Damian's own contact information. He hovered a finger over the call button, only just remembering that Jon slept like a rock and was likely still asleep, considering it was... (Damian checked the time) 4:38 in the morning. There was no use in calling him now.
He settled on texting his friend instead, deciding quickly that he didn't want to tip anyone who may see the text off to their...situation. He needed to act like Jon, and he needed to get Jon to follow his lead.
"We need to talk the second you see this. Don't do anything stupid before then." Yeah, that sounded enough like Jon to pass for now. Damian hit send and set the phone down, not expecting Jonathan to answer for a while.
He wasn't going back to sleep any time soon, since he was already fully awake. So he chose to search the room for a pencil and paper. Drawing would be a good way to waste time, and a good way to clear his mind and think of a plan for once Jonathan answered him.
Jon screamed.
Mostly out of surprise, sure, but a scream is still a scream. He wasn't exactly sure how else to act when he saw his best friend staring back at him threw the mirror with an expression he'd never seen on the boy's face. Okay, maybe screaming when he saw Damian smiling wasn't the best way to react, but he was also startled by him being in a mirror. And that wasn't Damian's smile anyway; it was almost like D was mimicking Jon's smile to near perfection. It was freaky.
When he woke up, he thought that he'd just forgotten about having a sleepover with Damian and didn't even think past that. Damian not being in the room didn't surprise him at all either (in fact, he would have been more surprised if D was in the room. He wakes up at some unholy hours). The only thing that made him take a double take was seeing Titus and Alfred (the cat) still in the room with him. When Titus started wagging his tail when Jon got up though, he just figured that maybe he was gifted with magical animal whispering powers that made Damian's pets want to spend the morning with him. Who was he to complain about that?
He had gotten up to use D's private bathroom (Jon never understood why anyone would need a private bathroom, but he never mentioned that to his friend), only after petting Titus of course, and within minutes he found himself screaming.
Hey, we're back at the start.
Jon touched his face; scratch that, Damian's face, apparently. What happened? Why was he in his best friend's body, and how did he even get here? After a few minutes of panic, Jon decided he needed an adult, and quickly left the bathroom. He was only inches away from the door when a light knock came from it. He hesitated for a moment, before opening the door himself, bringing him face to face with Dick Grayson.
"Hey Dami, everything alright?" Dick asked, crouching down to meet Jon's eyes. "Was it a nightmare?" Dick must have seen the confused and panicked look in Jon's eyes (Damian's eyes?) and carefully reached out to hug him.
A nightmare, Jon decided. This was definitely a nightmare. Jon nodded slowly, rolling with that idea, and hesitantly accepting the hug from Dick. It was nice. Dick's arms were big compared to Jon's, now slightly smaller, frame. It reminded him of the hugs his dad gave him.
Dick pulled back and gave Jon a soft smile. "Do you need anything?"
Jon considered it a bit but shook his head. This was a dream, and Jon just wanted out as fast as possible. He wasn't interested in advancing the plot. "Thanks though."
Dick's smile wavered for a moment, before growing three times larger. "You're welcome, Dami." Dick seemed content with that exchange and got back up on his feet, making his way down the hall.
Jon closed the door and got distracted by his hands as he walked back to the bed. Nope, these were definitely not his hands. Jon plopped down on the bed, followed closely by Alfred, who promptly curled up in his lap.
Before he had a chance to relax and figure out how to get out of this dream; however, a phone lying on the nightstand started ringing. Jon reached over to grab it but stopped. The caller ID made a pit form in his stomach because it was Jon who was calling him. Jon slowly grabbed the phone, waiting a little to answer it.
He clicked the answer button and held it up to his ear. "Finally, do you know how late it is?" Jon didn't recognize the voice on the other end, but it sounded uncomfortably familiar. That biting tone though, now that he recognized.
"D, is that you?"
"Tt, obviously. Who did you think it would be?"
"Uhh," Jon thought for a moment, only being able to think of one answer. "Nightmare me?"
There was a pause on the other side of the line, followed by a sigh and an exasperated "What?
"You know, cause...uh, this is a nightmare?"
Another sigh, "Kent, this isn't a nightmare."
"But-"
"However, if you would like to continue believing such an absurd delusion, then do that. Just listen to me and do exactly what I say regardless."
Jon grumbled out in response, "What's more absurd, this being a nightmare, or suddenly being in your best friend's body?"
Damian must have ignored Jon's argument, because he continued, "Once you get the chance, meet me at HQ. Until then," His voice turned serious. Well, more serious than it already was, "Do not let anyone know about this."
"Wait wait wait, you don't want to tell anyone about this? Even our dads?"
"No, I don't. This is our problem, and we can fix it without them. They'd only get in the way."
"You do remember the last time we didn't tell them about something, right D?"
"Tt, that's Jon to you. Or Jonathan or Kent or whatever other thing I'd typically call you."
"Like delusional." Jon deadpanned.
"Exactly. Now, I expect it will take you a while to get out of the manor considering everyone there is a nuisance, especially since Grayson is staying over this weekend. Regardless, be at HQ soon. See you there, Damian." And with that, the call abruptly ended.