Home Is With You

Rating: Mature

Category: M/M

Fandom: Justice League: Gods and Monsters (2015)

Relationship: Superman/Batman, Hernan Guerra (Lor-Zod)/Kirk Langstrom

Character: Hernan Guerra, Kirk Langstrom, Bekka

Additional Tags: Angst, Fluff, Diabetes, Not Beta'd

Notes PLEASE READ: I am assuming that Kirk has lived with Hernan ever since he found him at the docks 10 years ago, like he said in the movie. I have read the prequel comic books, and watched the Chronicles. I'm also assuming Hernan is weak to Kryptonite, since, well, he is Kryptonian like Kal, and Kon though just half Kryptonian is weak to Kryptonite, too. I have no idea where or how Lex got it. He just has it lol. I didn't explain everything in the story. xD It's a fanfic please be nice. And, Conner and Dick will not in anyway be related to Kirk or Hernan. They are completely different people, albeit with the same situation as a SuperBat fanfic the DCU, who are not superpowered people.

Summary: Kryptonian science helps Superman turn Batman back to human. from the anon message sent to me: "I think Hernan would do anything to get Kirk cured then reluctantly push the cured Kirk away for his own safety (even be mean to him if he has to). Kirk would take the cure because he hates his vampirism but you bet he would try to find a way to get his super strength back (study some of Magnus' nanomachines perhaps?) and go right back to Hernan's side because the moment Hernan saved Kirk's life and took him in, Kirk decided that he was going to be with him for life."

IMPORTANT NOTE THAT I AM GOING TO REPEAT: THIS IS NOT THE DCU. THIS IS AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE BY BRUCE TIMM AND ALAN BURNETT CALLED JUSTICE LEAGUE: GODS AND MONSTERS. SUPERMAN IS GENERAL ZOD'S SON. HIS NAME IS LOR-ZOD, AND HIS HUMAN NAME IS HERNAN GUERRA. KIRK LANGSTROM IS BATMAN AND HE'S A VAMPIRE MADE FROM SCIENCE, NOT THE SUPERNATURAL.

Kirk set down the bags of groceries down on the floor. "What's going on?" he asked, staring at what looked like all of this belongings packed in boxes and several big bags that were being transported to the ground floor by the zero gravity elevator. "Hernan?"

Hernan came into the living room and set down some more boxes. "You're back. Good," he said flatly. "You can leave the food in the kitchen. Take your things and go,"

Kirk paled. "What?" he said dumbly, looking at all his things? "You're kicking me out?"

"Of course," said Hernan. "I've cured you of your usefulness. What more reason do you have to stay here?" he shoved the duffel bag containing Kirk's few clothes into his hands.

The force of the shove made Kirk step back. "But I don't have anywhere else to go," he frowned.

"Not my problem," Hernan pushed the last of the boxes down the elevator. "There's money in your bag, and there's a moving truck outside that will take you wherever you want to go, and there are men loading your things into it." Hernan turned around, and headed back to his room.

Kirk's hands grew cold as they started to shake. He went after Hernan and grabbed his arm. "I don't want to go. I don't have anyone else, Hernan, please—" (1)

The duffel bag fell to the floor when Hernan turned around, making Kirk gasp. Hernan narrowed his eyes at him. "I have no use for you nor do I need you anymore, and you've overstayed your welcome," he withdrew his hand from Kirk. "I. Said. Leave."

Kirk jolted awake, covered in sweat, trying to catch his breath. He looked at the digital clock on the drawer beside his bed. It was a little past two in the morning. Usually, he'd be out feeding on criminals this time of night.

Now, he was in bed, like every other normal person. He was human. Hernan's perseverance and hard work, together with Kryptonian science and technology cured him of his vampirism.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, and slowly swung his legs of the bed. Moonlight shone into the room, and he raised his head to look at the crescent moon.

A small smile graced his lips. Sometimes, he and Hernan would be up until morning, sitting on the rooftop of the tower just talking about random things, under the light of the moon and stars, while Hernan ate some burger from a fast food joint nearby, and he'd have a large glass of artificial, sometimes fresh blood beside him.

Hernan liked surprising him with fresh blood when he got sick of artificial blood. It was from the blood bank of course. He didn't get enough fresh blood after they both swore they'd never kill again. He had never gotten to have a quick snack when they were out delivering justice after that.

It had been two years since Hernan cured him. Two years since he kicked Kirk out of the house. Two years since he and Hernan talked properly. Two years since their last meal and talk on the tower roof. Two years since the last crime fighting night they had together.

Two years might not be much time to some people, it might pass by quickly for others but to Kirk, it felt longer than that. Nights and days that feel like they grow longer and longer as they passed. Hernan dulled the pain from losing Tina and Will by simply being there for him. But losing Hernan while he was still alive was an entirely different kind of pain. Pain that wouldn't dull or go away no matter how distracted he was.

He'd never felt so alone and so… unloved.

His apartment, somewhere at the edge of Gotham, was somewhat cold, even though the heater was on. He'll fix it later in the morning. It was the end of October, and Thanksgiving and Christmas were coming soon. But Kirk didn't celebrate. Not anymore. He didn't have anyone to share it with. It had always been Tina and Will, but they were gone, and it wasn't always he was able to celebrate with them. So if not them, then Hernan and Bekka, mostly Hernan.

Besides, everyone he'd ever been thankful for either died or kicked him out of the house.

He missed Hernan's excited face during the holidays, which made him gingerly come out out of his lab to join him for Thanksgiving dinner (one of the special occasions where Hernan would be sure Kirk had fresh, warm blood for him), or decorating the tree for Christmas, or singing carols out of tune. Or even dressing up really well on Halloween and scaring kids.

But maybe he would have a nice bag of takeout and have thanksgiving himself. Be thankful for all the good memories the people he loved left to him, all the sights, and experiences whether good or bad. To be thankful that Hernan found him.

He sighed and got up, went to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water, and immediately went back to bed after taking a drink.

Everything he saw and did reminded him of Hernan. He lived with him for twelve years. It was going to be difficult not to see him in everything he did.

Hernan laughed. "Slow down!" he said as he tried to take the box of Chinese food away from Kirk. It was his third box of fried rice, and Hernan didn't even know how many dumplings he'd already eaten.

He'd flown it in just fifteen minutes ago from Hong Kong. He thought Kirk's first real meal should be good, and he'd been flying over China after a quick sweep of the world, and thought it'd be nice to take home some authentic Chinese.

"No!" Kirk said petulantly, getting off the sofa so that Hernan wouldn't be able to take the box of food, and shoved a dumpling in his mouth.

"You'll get sick if you keep eating!" Hernan slowly approached him. "Please give me the food, Kirk, and I'll make you some tea so you can relax. I promise we'll have more food later,"

Kirk frowned, and looked into the box of fried rice. "But it's so good," he said with a full mouth. He hadn't eaten food in years.

"I know, I know," Hernan cautiously took the box and spork from him. Hernan had never felt so happy to see a grown man act so childish. But Kirk deserved it. He deserved to do and feel however he wanted. "We'll have a lot more food later, and you'll have whatever you want, I promise, but you need to stop and rest, and let your body adjust first,"

"You promise?" he made his brows meet in attempt to threaten the most powerful man on earth. Kirk hoped it was working.

"I promise," Hernan raised his right hand.

"I want to try baking,"

"Then we'll bake as many pastries as you want,"

For a few seconds, Kirk didn't want to surrender the food, but Hernan has never wanted anything but what was best for him, so he relaxed and handed over the box. "Okay,"

"Good," Hernan said with relief.

Kirk sat back down on the sofa with a groan. He did indeed eat too much.

"I'll get you some tea,"

Kirk looked up at him and smiled. "Thank you,"

"Don't mention it," Hernan smiled back.

Sometimes, he worried.

"Mr Langstrom? Do you know where I might find these books?" a young man who looked like he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in a while came up to him with a list.

"Let's take a look," Kirk took the list, and skimmed through the bulleted titles. Some of these the library had. He took the pen from his front shirt pocket, and checked some three titles. "You can find these in the shelves you frequent, the others you might have to look for these in used bookshops. And if you're looking for more books related to these…" Kirk turned the paper and wrote more titles down.

He'd been working at this public library as its librarian for some time now. He'd seen this student, with dark hair, blue eyes, and thickly rimmed glasses, come around every now and then, and from the looks of all the books he'd been checking out, he was a student working on his thesis. He was glad children still used the library, and were still honest about academics.

"Thank you!" he said gratefully with a smile. "I'll get you coffee some time, Mr. Langstrom,"

"You don't need to," Kirk smiled back as he watched him hurry to his favorite spot.

Small acts and few words of kindness, distractions like these, didn't stop him from worrying.

Worrying about Hernan's wellbeing, mostly. Even if he knew nothing could ever hurt him, it didn't mean he didn't have feelings. It didn't mean he didn't get stressed about the pressure from the government, or trying to save the world before bedtime every day. What if he needed help? They weren't sure if Bekka was coming back. Hernan was all alone at home.

Kirk lightly frowned as he put some books back in a shelf. Even though he knew Hernan could take care of himself, it didn't mean that it wouldn't hurt to have someone take care of him.

I've cured you of your usefulness.

He liked to think Hernan lied to him. But every day, he thought of the last words Hernan had said to him, and he found himself believing it. What was he to Hernan without his vampirism? He was a housekeeper, at best, and Hernan didn't even need one.

In the five months that Hernan helped him adjust back to being human, he was nothing but his housekeeper, and sometimes, if Hernan felt like working without the aid of the government, his information broker, feeding him instruction and tips on whatever was going on in the criminal underground.

In the five months that Hernan helped him adjust back to being human, Hernan had done nothing but express to him a fondness and affection that was forged in the twelve years that he stayed with him. A fondness Kirk all too selfishly tried to take, affection he naively believed was true.

He thought he'd be able to stay by Hernan's side for the rest of his vampiric existence, if ever it didn't have an end or a cure. And he was right. Hernan had cured him, ending his vamprism, making him human, and also severing his right to stay with him.

And if usefulness had only been the reason why Hernan let him stay with him that long, then was he never his friend?

"Hernan, there's a door to a stairwell some ten feet if you turn left," said Kirk into Hernan's earpiece. "If you go down three floors, you'll meet them just by the elevator to the car exits on the ground floor,"

Hernan followed his directions. "Got it,"

"Be careful! And don't destroy any evidence!" Kirk reminded him as he heard slamming doors, gunshots and car engines roaring to life. They still haven't figured out who's gotten a hold of the Red Sun guns that were stolen a few weeks ago. Kirk didn't want what happened two years ago to happen again.

He actually missed being out on the field.

"Relax!" said Hernan. Suddenly everything was quiet.

"What happened? Is everything okay? Are you hurt?"

"Me? Hurt?" Hernan scoffed. "You should be asking them that!"

"I'm calling 911," Kirk said as he hurriedly tried to connect to the emergency hotline.

"No need," Hernan said playfully. "It's not like I did anything brash,"

'911, what's your emergency?'

Kirk turned on the voice modulator and gave the dispatcher the location Superman and the cartel members were at. "There's a shootout in an abandoned building near the border…"

Hernan kept talking from the other line. "They're all just unconscious—!"

Hernan gave a sharp cry, and a sound like concrete breaking and rubble flying all over the place, came through before the line was cut.

"Hernan?"

"HERNAN!"

Nothing.

"HERNAN GUERRA, ANSWER ME!"

"What!"

Kirk turned around.

"Better destroy these, but after I've changed clothes," Hernan stood in the middle of their living space, with his uniform very damaged, holding what looked like Red Sun Guns, brushing rubble off his hair and shoulders. He dropped the weapons to the floor. "What's got you all riled up?"

"Where did you get those?" asked Kirk, avoiding the question. "Are those all of the stolen weapons?"

"Oh, yeah," said Hernan airily, "The stolen weapons. One of them jumped from one of the vans and shot me with one. I hit a pillar, which was completely destroyed, but thankfully didn't bring the building down. Good thing he was the only one conscious, or I'd never have gotten out of there with these being fired all at the same time,"

"Are you hurt?" Kirk turned off the computer, and went over to him to check if he was injured.

"No, but a recharge would be really good right now," in a burst of lively speed and gust of wind, Hernan changed into a spare of his uniform. "I'll be disposing of these, and then I will be in the stratosphere, relaxing,"

"You're sure you're not hurt?" Kirk asked worriedly.

"I'm sure, so stop worrying, okay? I'll fly somewhere for food so don't prepare anything,"

Another gust of wind and less than a second later, Hernan was gone, out and about flying as if he didn't get shot. Kirk sighed and shook his head.

What a troublesome landlord.

"Mr. Langstrom!"

Kirk waved goodbye to the keeper, and closed the doors to the library. "Huh?" it was the student from earlier that week, the one he recommended books to, running up the stairs toward him.

"Hi! Good evening!" he smiled.

"Good evening," replied Kirk, "What are you doing here so late? You should be at home already!"

"I just wanted to give this to you," he handed him the tallest cup of coffee from a nearby café, and some gloves. "It's hot chocolate, so you don't have to worry about the caffeine wrecking your sleep cycle,"

If the cold had already reddened Kirk's cheeks, the gesture made him even redder. "Thank you, that's very nice of you,"

"My name's Conner Kent," he said, "I'm a graduating student at Gotham State. Thank you very much for all the books you recommended. They really helped move my thesis along!"

Kirk smiled genuinely. "I'm glad,"

"Oh, and uh," Conner said bashfully, "I know last Monday I said I'd give you coffee, but it's late, and coffee doesn't sound like a good idea. Only my stepdad likes coffee at midnight,"

Kirk took a sip of the hot chocolate. "Thank you for the drink. It's going to make walking home much more bearable in the cold,"

"You walk home?" said Conner, "My stepbrother's coming to pick me up, so we can drop you off! Please let us drop you off. It's the least I can do for all of you've done,"

Kirk chuckled. "But I only recommended you books,"

"That helped me with my thesis," Conner made an expression that looked like he was going to cry. "I've been stuck for so long and my stepbrothers keep teasing me that I wouldn't be able to graduate,"

"I'm sure you'll be able to with flying colors,"

A car's horn sounded, and a sleek, black limousine pulled over in front of the library.

"Oh," Conner turned around.

The back passenger window rolled down to reveal a young man. "Kon, hurry up! We have to get to the airport! They're already there and we're supposed to take off in twenty minutes!"

"Dick!" Conner went down a few steps. "Mr. Langstrom, that's my stepbrother! Hurry! We'll drop you off!"

"But you're in a hurry—"

"The pilot can wait a little longer!" Conner ran down the stairs, almost tripping.

"Careful!" hissed the young man named Dick.

"Dick! Can we drop off Mr. Langstrom at his house? Pleaasseee?"

"What? We don't have time for that!"

"C'mon! He's the one I told you about who gave me all those books that helped me!"

"Really? Get him in the car then!"

"Besides, I don't think he lives that far because he says he walks home—Mr. Langstrom! C'mon, get in the car! It's getting really cold!"

Kirk smiled and followed him. Ah, the spirit of the young.

Hernan floated above the library and watched Kirk get into the fancy car. He'd been doing this every night ever since Kirk got his job as a librarian at the public library. Well, since any job he took.

He'd been doing this for two years, more or less.

'This,' meaning, making sure Kirk got to work on time, and got home safe at night. He was a stalker, and he knew it. This was wrong, but as long as he could see Kirk safely come and go from his apartment, he was okay with it. He'd never intrude his privacy and listen or look at what he was doing inside his apartment.

Because if anyone ever tried to mug Kirk while he walked home he was going to break their oath and kill the son of the bitch for even thinking of stealing Kirk's hard earned money.

He clenched his fist. He was going to kill all of them.

He knew Kirk could handle himself, because he'd seen him take some self defense classes, and sometimes the gym where a coach there would teach him how to punch properly. Keeping an eye on Kirk really was just an excuse to see him.

When he was sure Kirk had gone into his apartment, and when he was sure that Kirk had locked every door, Hernan flew himself back at home, and poured himself a glass of Kryptonite laced brandy from Luthor. He'd always wanted to know what it was like to get drunk, and now he knew. He also now knew what it was like to be hurt from hurting someone else.

He made himself look like a manipulative piece of shit, and he hurt Kirk the worst way possible that he knew, to keep him safe.

It's for his safety.

This was all for Kirk's safety.

Just from what he was supposed to keep Kirk safe from, he wasn't sure. He thought about it as he downed another glass of the brandy. Was it from the dangers of their job? Was it from the enemies he'd made that could go after him?

If there was something Hernan wanted to protect Kirk from, it was from his own thoughts. He didn't know exactly what happened to Kirk before they met, but he knew it was terrible enough for Kirk to decide not to tell it to him. Kirk had told him some of it here and there, but it was never enough for him to form a coherent story. It was just bits and pieces of what Kirk did and didn't do, and what he'd seen. But even if he didn't know, he knew those memories haunted him. He knew it ate him.

He hated it. He hated how Kirk had to live with that. He knew what it was like to grow up like that. It wasn't something he'd want for anybody. Yet for all his sincere wishes that Kirk wouldn't have to live with his nightmares, he hurt Kirk even more.

All this pain, all this crap he made Kirk feel like. Kirk was his friend first and foremost, yet he threw him away, kicked him out like he was some pain in the ass.

They were friends.

But just what kind of friend was Hernan?

What kind of friend told his friend he wasn't of use to him anymore? What kind of friend told his friends that he wasn't welcome in his home anymore? What kind of friend disowns his friend? What kind of friend tossed out his friend into the cold without nowhere else to go?

A crap friend, that's what. A sad, sad excuse for a friend.

The brandy glass cracked in Hernan's hand, spilling the liquor into his hands and dripping onto the floor. He stood there, in the middle of the dark living space of his house, describing exactly himself. A shit friend.

Like how he was a shit son, and a shit brother. Just like how he hurt his sister and put his her in a wheelchair, just like how he hurt his mother and let her die alone, just like how he purposely disobeyed his father to hurt him and left him alone to grieve for his mother, he hurt Kirk and left him alone. (2)

The last thing Hernan wanted to do was hurt and leave Kirk. But he did.

Hurting Kirk to keep him safe was a lie. And Hernan didn't even know what the truth was.

Kirk put on the helmet. He smiled. It fit perfectly. The firmware booted and user interface loaded onto his visor. (3)

It was going to be ready for a test run soon. It wasn't his first test run. He didn't know how many jobless days and sleepless nights he'd worked on this, and how many tests he'd run. Actually, he knew because he wrote it down with some notes of improvement but couldn't remember at the moment because he was too excited to try it out.

He made it out of the technology Will left behind plus some material that could be bought online. It would be waste not to use it, but Kirk would probably not be using it for medicine. At least not yet. Most of it was confiscated by the government, but he still got some of it, enough to build himself a suit that he hoped would protect him.

He walked over to the sandbag he got from a thrift shop some few weeks back, and hit it as hard as he could, exactly how the trainer at the gym showed him.

"Crap!"

The bag burst from the force he put into the punch. He smiled and gave a hearty laugh. Tonight would be a good test run night. At least, he hoped, the gliding would be a success. And he'd be able to see Hernan, and prove to him he's not useless after all.

"Okay," Kirk took a deep breath. "You used to do this all the time. No use getting scared now,"

Of course he was scared. He didn't have enhanced senses and strength anymore. But he hoped his muscle memory would save him in case something bad happened.

Fully dressed in the programmable armored suit, and about to try out the gliding features, with his software and pre-programmed hardware ready, Kirk stood on top of a building near a park, where he planned to land. Or crash, depending on whether his calculations were correct or not.

Kirk kept looking at the distance between his feet and the ground the five story building was on. He wouldn't be able to do this if he kept looking, so he closed his eyes and jumped.

A sprained ankle and some minor cuts that thankfully didn't need any stitches.

However, he'd already been switching from gliding, dive bombs and climbing, and turning on the boosters in his boots, and landing on some buildings for more than half an hour when he accidentally tilted his arm wrong, and he fell into the trees of the park below.

And Kirk was up to the heavens giddy, and happy, and excited about that result. All he needed to do now was figure out a way how to keep himself up in the air, without needing his arms to keep his so called wings attached to them. (4)

So for the moment, he sat at his desk in the library, with his foot up, and his crutches nearby, there was the occasional question and laugh about why and how he 'fell down the stairs' from library frequenters.

Hernan punched the abandoned warehouse wall at the edge of Metropolis. The cracks on the wall quickly raced into a hundred different directions.

Did he hear right? Kirk had a sprained ankle? From falling down the stairs? Kirk couldn't possibly believe that he was going to believe that he sprained his ankle just from falling down the stairs.

He quickly flew to Gotham, making sure he was at a considerable distance, and tried to see if Kirk was alright. Usually he'd be arranging books, checking if all the shelves were as pristine as he left them, but as of that moment he was simply at his desk, with his foot up, catching up on reports and record keeping.

Hernan sighed. He had no reason to be here. No reason to be angry. Humans got physically hurt all the time, and well, as long as nobody else was the reason for Kirk's injury, he should stay calm.

He ended up with several glasses of brandy that night, thinking that no one was there to take care of Kirk while he was injured, and thinking that it could be him if he wasn't so goddamn stupid.

"Is he okay?" Bekka frowned as Kirk rushed back to Hernan's room with a basin of cold water and a face towel.

"Still running that fever," answered Kirk, "Don't worry about us. You're needed out there for when cleanup starts," he set down the bowl on the bedside drawer, and drew the curtains so the sunlight would come in.

Sunlight wasn't his thing anymore since that night, but Hernan needed it, and he was too weak to move to recharge in the stratosphere.

"If you need help—"

"I will," Kirk wet the face towel, and gently pressed it to Hernan's face in attempt to cool him down.

Bekka left, leaving Kirk to care for Hernan.

Kirk had no idea what to do. Human medicine wouldn't work on Hernan obviously, and there wasn't enough sunlight in the bathroom if he decided to put Hernan in a tub of ice water.

"That's too cold," Hernan groaned.

"You're having a fever, and your temperature is way too high," Kirk wet the cloth again, and pressed it to Hernan's neck. "It may be the effect of the Red Sun guns. You got shot too many times, and your immune system weakened,"

Hernan tried to laugh but it sounded strangled. "So this is what it's like to be sick,"

"Yes," Kirk replied again repeating the process with the cloth and cold water.

"Just need some sun," Hernan tried to sit up, but Kirk pushed him back down.

"I'll take care of it," Kirk pushed the bed towards the wall of glass that were Hernan's windows. It took him a while, for it was a big bed, and a big man was lying in it, but he did it. He did the same with the drawer, so that the basin of water would be near, and he could continue his attempt in lowering Hernan's temperature.

"Yesterday was quite a bang," Hernan watched Kirk wet the cloth again. "How've you been holding up?" he asked. Kirk lost the two most important people in his life yesterday.

Kirk paused for a moment, and decided not to answer. "Just absorb the sunlight and rest, Hernan,"

"Whatever you say, doc," Hernan chuckled, and closed his eyes.

Kirk put the armor back in the chest, and locked the room that served as his lab. Leaning on the cane he graduated to from the crutches, he put the key in the bowl next to the TV remote. At least he could walk with both feet now. He still couldn't put a lot of weight on his injured foot, but it made getting to work a whole lot easier.

Tomorrow was thanksgiving. He'd done shopping earlier that morning, and thought maybe he should celebrate, even if he wasn't going to cook turkey.

He made his way to the kitchen, and grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge. He popped it open, and took a long swig. He let out a refreshed exhale, and looked at the label on the bottle. He gave a small smile. Hernan liked Corona. They never ran out of it and always had a case or two back home. (5)

Home.

Even though Kirk had been living in this apartment for some time, even though he called this unit home, he still considered Hernan's house his home. Maybe, wherever Hernan was, that was home. Hernan was his home. And he'd do anything to be back home. He probably decided that the moment Hernan found him at the docks, in the middle of the night, with a rat in his mouth, and took him in, that he was going to stay with him forever.

He jumped, startled at the loud banging at the door.

It was nearing midnight on the eve of thanksgiving. He didn't know anyone who would be coming to visit him this time of night, and on a holiday.

He looked through the door's peephole.

With a gasp, Kirk quickly unlocked the door, and swung it open.

"HERNAN!"

"Kirk…"

Hernan stumbled forward. Kirk let go of the cane, causing him to put weight on the still recovering foot when he tried to catch Hernan. He gave a suppressed groan of pain as he dragged Hernan inside, and onto the sofa.

"Hernan, just how much did you drink?" Kirk asked worriedly. Hernan reeked of alcohol. "You should stop drinking those things Luthor gave you!"

He limped as fast as he could to retrieve his cane, and locked the door. He poured Hernan a glass of water, and tried to make him drink it. He hoped trying to sober up humans was how you sober up Kryptonians, too.

"Drink this," he said as he sat down next to him, pressing the mouth of the glass to Hernan's lips.

Hernan finished the glass of water gratefully, and leaned into Kirk. "I miss you," he slurred drunkenly.

Blood rushed to Kirk's face. Was he hearing right?

"Dios mío, I miss you so much, Kirk," he wrapped his arms around him.

Shaking, Kirk hugged back.

"I'm so sorry," Hernan continued as he started to sob. "I didn't mean to. I just wanted to keep you safe. You're not useless at all. I want to you come back home so badly, but I don't know how to tell you, and I also really just want to keep you safe. Please come back. I'm sorry. I really am. Forgive me please, and come back,"

"It's okay," Kirk rubbed circles on his back in an effort to calm him down. "It's okay. I forgive you and I missed you, too, Hernan," he held him tighter.

"You're hurt," he sniffled, looking at Kirk's foot. "How'd you get that?"

"I was trying out my new Batman outfit," Kirk answered honestly. "I was excited to show you, to prove you to I'm not useless, but while testing it out I got hurt,"

Hernan looked him in the eye. "You're not useless! I just made that up because I'm stupid! And I'm sorry for calling you that!"

He let Hernan cry it all out, and when he already tired himself out, he made him drink another glass of water, before helping him onto his bed so he could rest. He took off the civilian clothes that reeked of alcohol, and tucked him in, but before he could lift his hand from the sheets, Hernan grabbed it.

"Stay,"

Kirk sighed and shook his head fondly. His former landlord, drunk on his bed. How troublesome.

Kirk ran his hand through Hernan's hair gently, kissed his forehead, and climbed into bed with him. "Good night, Hernan,"

Hernan woke up with a headache. It wasn't that bad. Not nearly as bad as when he tried to drink himself to death, and woke up with a skull cracking headache that he actually stayed away from the sun because the light hurt his eyes.

He opened his eyes.

Wait.

This wasn't his room.

He tried to move, but something heavy was on his arm, and something warm was on his chest. He looked to his left, and saw Kirk, pressed to his side, fully clothed under the sheets that covered them, fast asleep, using his bicep as a pillow, his hand resting on his chest.

He drunk visited Kirk. This was Kirk's apartment. In Gotham. And he remembered everything he said last night. That wasn't a dream. He also remembered everything Kirk said and did.

"I told Will that I loved two people in my life,"

Kirk was awake.

"I never realized, it turned three when I met you,"

Silence.

Hernan sat up, carefully peeling Kirk off him. He looked at Kirk, putting his weight on his left arm. "And I realized that when you left, that I need you, more than I thought I did," he paused. "I need you because I love you,"

Kirk gave him an enamored smile, and reached for his face. "Yeah? I love you, too,"

"And I want you back,"

"I would like to come home with you, Hernan,"

Hernan smiled back as he put his hand over Kirk's on his face. "Let's go home,"

End notes:

(1) According to Justice League: Gods and Monsters – Batman 1 of 3, Kirk's father pretends he doesn't exist, and his mother asks him to stay away from them. I'm assuming that after ten years, his old looking parents during the prequel are dead by now.

(2) According to Justice League: Gods and Monsters – Superman (all three issues), Hernan is the reason why his sister loses the use of her legs, when he hit a tree she was climbing, and she fell. He grows up angry at himself, the world, and God, for giving him powers he didn't want. He is told not to use his powers, but one day his parents ask him to save a crashing plane, and he says that the last thing he wants to do is disobey his parents, and lets the plane crash. Some time later, he almost kills the sheriff and his officers when they came to arrest him for killing a man by heat vision earlier that day. He leaves home and travels the world, and gets used to the high life. After a slaughtering men who kidnapped children, he becomes Superman.

(3) I'm basing Kirk's armored suit on the Arkham Knight's take on the Batman Beyond suit. So um, just imagine that without the big red bat on his chest. Because people fear Batman because he's a vampire, this one seems scary enough.

(4) Terry can do this, and apparently so can Bruce in Arkham Knight.

(5) I got this from Fast & Furious please forgive me. xD

Comments are appreciated!