Hello, and happy Friday!
The idea for this oneshot first sparked in my mind a couple months ago after I'd already started writing the Danny Phantom/Young Justice crossover Recognized. I started wondering what exactly happened between the raid on Cadmus and the opening of Mount Justice, particularly regarding where Superboy slept in the meantime, because it was never really addressed on the show. And then I had a writer's block with Recognized and decided to write this out as a break and have been perfecting it since then. I have done my best to keep everyone in character, particularly regarding Superboy's emotional development which hadn't really begun at this point in the canon timeline, but you may see a bit more depth to Superboy than shown on the show (because he's relatively alone here and doesn't have the pressure of a large group of people).
And then, a week ago, I found out about the Young Justice comic book series released as a sort of amendment to the show itself, and the first issue addressed what Superboy got up to during those three days. I read it and noticed a couple parallels to what I imagine had happened, but I ultimately decided to keep this oneshot as it was instead of adapting it to the canon events or rewriting it on a larger scale for the sake of uniqueness. (You can find the comic books digitally over at ReadComicOnline.) Besides, this story focuses solely on the first night rather than all three days.
General Notes:
"This is dialogue."
"This is alternative dialogue, meaning whispered or spoken from a distance such as on the phone."
'This is thought.'
This and THIS and *this* are emphasis. The *this* emphasis is more along the lines of the snarky or sarcastic.
I do not own Young Justice.
Originally published: Friday, September 7, 2018
NIGHT ONE
Central City — July 5 01:27
The duffle bag in Wally's hand whumped to the ground. "Well, here's home!" he said cheerfully.
The road was nearly vacant, apart from the two teens. Almost everyone else was asleep at the late—or rather, early—hour; though, the last stragglers at a block party one street over were still hollering and sending up fireworks. 'Independence Day: how fitting,' Wally thought. With a dramatic flair of his unbuttoned overshirt, Wally gestured to an average-looking, two-story corner house, much like a gameshow host would with a prize. He grinned and looked at his guest, who stoically appraised the façade from their vantage point across the street.
Wally's grin fell slightly as he looked between his companion and his home. For the hundredth time since leaving Cadmus, Wally questioned his life choices. "He can crash at my place?" he'd suggested. "My parents love meeting friends from the League," he'd assured. "I think he might even be able to unseat Robin as my best bud," he'd joked. 'I can EASILY help a formerly evil clone enter society,' he'd convinced himself.
Sure. 'Suuuuuuuure you can.'
Wally noticed Superboy's mounting anxiety: the shoulders rolled forward; one hand grasping the other arm's elbow; the crease in his forehead; the tightly drawn line of his mouth. He swallowed his own anxiety and assured, "I know it's not much, but it's home, ya know? All…lovey and whatever? Actually, you probably don't know. At all. I mean, yet. Yeah. Sorry, I'll stop talking now." Wally flushed in embarrassment and frowned to himself.
"It's fine," his—dare he say—*friend* grunted. "Looks…nice."
Though his ever-present scowl did nothing to assure the validity of the compliment.
"Thanks. Come on in! I promise there's no secret lab in the basement."
Wally picked up Superboy's duffle bag and crossed the street. After a beat, Superboy followed. They mounted the steps of the porch and approached the front door, but the redhead paused with his hand on the handle.
"Hey, look, um…" Wally searched for the words before turning to Superboy. "My parents know about who I am—Kid Flash, blossoming hero and heartthrob and all—" Superboy rolled his eyes "-but all Uncle Barry—uh, I mean, *the Flash*—all the Flash told them is that you're a friend from the League who needs a place to crash for a couple nights before Mount Justice is reopened. They don't know anything about who you are or how you got here, so there's no drama, no awkwardness, no pressure. We can introduce them to it gradually. Alright?"
Superboy returned Wally's hopeful half-smile with a curt nod. Wally's smile grew to a full one, and he opened the squeaking door.
The inside was just as humble as the outside appeared. It felt small and almost cramped, especially compared to the caverns of Cadmus. But there was an undefinable difference to it, something that just intrinsically appealed to Superboy: the smell of a 4th of July barbecue still lingering in the air; the plate of cookies on the table; the warm, subdued lighting from a single table lamp and the overhead kitchen fixture; the cool summer night's breeze through the open windows, there were windows; the woman who had fallen asleep at the table with a crossword and discarded pen before her.
It was…home.
The squeak of the aging front door's hinges roused the woman from her slumber. While Superboy stood awkwardly behind the sofa, Wally shut the door and dropped the duffle bag on one of the chairs. Mrs. West blinked blearily then smiled when she noticed her son coming to greet her. The chair screeched against the floorboards as she stood.
"Hey, Mom," he said and gave her a long hug.
"Hey, sweetie." She kissed his cheek and ruffled his perpetually messy hair. "Big day?"
"Very big," Wally emphasized.
"Was it everything you expected?"
"Nah," he groaned, but Wally quickly smirked and stepped aside so she could see Superboy. "It was way better."
His mother rolled her eyes and looked over the guest. He was tall and muscular, dwarfing Wally and defining "tall, dark and handsome" were 'dark' in reference to demeanor. Something about him was familiar in a distant way. His short, jet black hair swayed loosely in the cross-breeze through the house. The boy's chest and shoulders opened into a naturally proud position, though his cool blue eyes were downcast and focused on the squeaky oak floorboards. He finally looked up when she approached.
"Hello!" she greeted. "You must be Wally's new friend. I'm Mrs. West. What's your name?"
"My…my name?" he sputtered and looked to Wally.
"S.B.?" the speedster half-suggested, then ran with it. "Yeah, he goes by S.B. But don't ask what his real name is," he stage-whispered to his mother with a wink at S.B. "It's *super* embarrassing."
After a momentary squint of suspicion, Mrs. West said, "Well, nice to meet you, S.B.," She extended a hand.
S.B. grasped it. "Hi."
Mrs. West cringed and bent slightly, doing her best to keep her smile on her face. "Wow, that's, uh—that's quite a grip you've got there!" she commented through clenched teeth.
Wally and Superboy's eyes both widened. Superboy withdrew his hand as if it had been burned. "Oh…sorry, Mrs. West," he said and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.
She gave her hand a subtle massage and tried to wave off his guilt. "I swear, you growing boys don't know your own strength."
"You don't know the half of it," Superboy muttered to himself while making knowing eye contact with Wally.
Mrs. West's smile was now purely awkward. She looked S.B. up and down before resetting her smile to something more genuine. "I like your, uh, workout uniform," she said and gestured to his chest. "Are you a fan?"
It was in that moment that Wally and Superboy realized the latter had never changed out of his white suit from Cadmus, still torn from the fight and brandishing the Superman emblem for all the world to see.
"I've met him, if that's what you mean," Superboy replied.
"It's almost uncanny! Has anyone ever told you you look just like-"
"YES! They have."
Mrs. West and Superboy both turned to Wally with disbelieving expressions. The teen shrunk under their gaze. Wally immediately reconsidered his skill navigating difficult conversations and avoiding emotional triggers.
"You know, black hair, blue eyes, irritatingly muscular…it's bound to happen," he explained weakly with a shrug and an awkward laugh.
"Must have been some fight you boys got yourself into today," the woman commented. Mrs. West couldn't help but reach out and lift up the torn fabric at the neckline to evaluate. She clicked her tongue and shook her head disapprovingly. "Well, leave it out in the morning and I'll see if I can get it patched up."
Superboy's eyebrows arched upwards.
"Don't worry about it, Mom," Wally said and gently removed her hand from the scrap. "So anyway, can he stay in the guest room?"
His mother sighed. "I'm afraid your grandparents decided to stay the night and are already asleep in there. I'd say we could throw an air mattress on your floor but good LORD have you seen the state of your room, so I'm afraid the couch is the only option tonight."
"This is fine, Mrs. West," Superboy said and looked the sofa up and down. A pillow and short stack of linens sat waiting at one end. It might have been a little short for his very...*heroic* stature, but it would work. "It's better than what I had before."
"You're a trouper, I can tell," Mrs. West said proudly and produced a travel pack of toothpaste and a brush. Superboy reached for it, but it slipped out of his grasp and bounced under the sofa. "Oops!" she said and began to lower herself to the floor to retrieve it.
"I got it," Superboy said. He effortlessly lifted the couch entirely off the floor with one hand and grabbed the pack with the other. He then held it out for the woman, who merely stood shellshocked.
"Dude!" Wally hissed. He bent down and added while not breaking eye contact with his mother, "Put down the sofa!"
Superboy looked between the two, Wally petrified and Mrs. West astounded. "…Oh."
Superboy gently placed the furniture back on the floor and stood upright, looking somewhat bashful.
Mrs. West recovered enough for a knowing grin to spread itself across her face. "I honestly should be used to all this by now. Don't worry about it, S.B.; I think it was *super* of you to get it for me." She very unsubtly winked at Wally. "Alright. I'll leave you two to settle in. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen—I mean him, not you, Wally," she reprimanded at her son's eager expression. Mrs. West then pointed to a plate on the table. "And I baked some fresh cookies after your uncle Barry telephoned. Wake-up call is at 8:00 tomorrow. Good night, boys!"
"Good night, Mrs. West," Superboy said.
"Good night, Mom," Wally called.
Mrs. West disappeared up the stairs, leaving the pair in an awkward silence. Wally turned to Superboy. "Alright, let's get this couch set up."
While Superboy stood aside watching, Wally took off the back cushions and tossed them aside. He then began unfolding one of the sheets his mother had set out.
"I hope this is the right one. I can never remember which type of sheet goes on the bottom…"
"Mm."
Wally flicked the sheet open over the couch. Superboy caught on and grabbed the other end so they could lay it out over what cushions remained. They tucked in both ends then repeated the process with the top sheet.
"Kryptonians aren't allergic to duck down, are they?" Wally asked and held up a pillow.
"No."
Wally plumped it up while Superboy unfurled one of the blankets.
"Ever thought your first night out would be on an obscure suburban family's lumpy old sofa?"
"No."
Wally sighed.
"Do you ever talk?"
"Do you ever stop talking?"
They froze. The redhead frowned. Superboy's annoyed grimace immediately fell. Wally clutched the extra blankets to his chest and sat heavily on a loveseat, exuding dejection. Superboy exhaled deeply and rested his forehead in his palm.
Wally finally spoke after a few tense moments. "Mom says it's a fear of silence—sedatephobia or something. Dad says it's ADHD; I think it's a little of both. When there's an awkward silence or the conversation dies off, I can't help myself. Something in me has to keep things going so nobody feels awkward, or left out, or uninteresting…It's just that-" He released a frustrated sigh and clutched the blankets a little tighter. In a much smaller voice, Wally continued, "You saved my life back there, okay? Like, twice, when you broke us out of the pods and again when you jumped over me when Cadmus collapsed there at the end. And right now it's your first night out of that creepy lab and I don't have any idea how to repay you other than making meaningless conversation so it doesn't get uncomfortably quiet here while we put sheets on a freaking sofa for you to sleep on when we just got you out of literal hell, like 'Welcome to freedom! Here's the worst possible accommodation my family can manage,' and why in God's name did they agree that *I* would be the best one to host you when-"
"Wally."
That single word brought Wally's rant to a crashing halt.
Superboy studied the pillow in his hand. "I'm just an inferior copy of someone great. Also I think my original hates my guts, even though I didn't choose to be created as a mindless weapon for some evil secret organization. But you and Aqualad and Robin still fought to get me out. It's because of you guys that I might ever be able to have a real life. No matter what I do, no matter how many times I block a building from crushing you…I can never repay that." He gently tossed the pillow onto the couch.
A spark of brotherly love danced in Wally's eye. "So let's just agree to not let each other die and call it even."
Superboy nodded, finally looking up at Wally. "All that aside, I can safely say this will be the comfiest 'bed' I've ever slept on in my entire life."
"Di-…did you just make a joke?"
S.B. looked away. Wally snickered for a moment before dashing to the kitchen. He returned holding 2 bottles of water and handed one over to Superboy.
"You know," the speedster said and paused for a swig of water, "maybe biologically you're a copy, but you're not Superman; you are your own person. I've only known that person for a couple hours now, but I already think he's pretty cool."
Superboy cleared his throat and avoided eye contact once more, but he nodded softly before taking a drink of his own.
Satisfied, Wally returned his attention to the couch. After an appraising once-over, he nodded to himself then looked up. "Alright. I'll go get you some of my clothes so you don't wake up looking like the survivor of a Cirque du Soleil accident. Might have to borrow some of Dad's if mine don't fit, though…"
"He won't be upset if I use his clothes?"
"He won't even know, dude. Super-speed, remember?" Wally grinned. To prove his point, he vanished then reappeared a heartbeat later holding an assortment of clothes. He held them out for Superboy to take.
"If you say so…" S.B. took them from Wally and glanced through his options. A loose pair of Wally's basketball shorts might work, especially for the summer heat, but Superboy's torso was far too broad for the lanky runner's tees. He would have to settle for one of Mr. West's shirts. He began stripping off the top half of Cadmus suit so it hung loosely from his waist.
"Oh, come on…" came an annoyed mutter.
Superboy froze and looked to his companion. "What?"
"I mean…it's just not FAIR," Wally complained. He gestured up and down Superboy's body.
"What's not?" he asked and straightened to his full height, unknowingly making things worse.
"Promise me you'll never take off your shirt anywhere near me again."
"Why?" S.B. insisted. He looked down at himself to try and deduce what was wrong.
"Because if the girls see you, I won't even have a chance," Wally grumbled and trudged over to the plate of cookies.
Superboy grinned to himself and finished changing clothes.
"Also, for future ref," Wally added through a mouthful of chocolate chip, "it's not considered *normal* to change clothes out in the open, unless you're in a locker room with just other guys."
"Oh, sorry…"
"Don't worry about it, you're new to this," Wally said without thinking. He realized what he'd said and froze. "Sorry…"
Superboy moaned. "Look, can we just agree that we're both sorry for the rest of the night and stop saying it?"
"Sorry," Wally singsonged. Superboy looked at him in disbelief, but they shared a half-smile once he saw the teasing glint in Wally's eye. S.B. finished pulling on the basketball shorts and completed his transformation into an apparently typical teenager. "Alright, well, it's already 2:00 am and I'm beat, so I'm gonna go to bed. You good? Need anything else?"
Superboy shook his head.
"Cool. Bathroom's first door on the right down the hall. My bedroom's second on the right upstairs."
"Alright."
The redhead yawned, stretched and turned to the stairs.
"Hey, uh…Wally?"
Wally paused on the first step and looked back at Superboy. "What's up?"
'Thanks for having me over tonight? Thanks for having such welcoming parents? Thanks for being so non-judgmental? Thanks for rescuing me from a prison I didn't even know I was in? Thanks for giving me a chance at an actual life?'
"…Good night."
Wally read between the lines. It would come in time. "Good night, S.B.," he replied with a warm smile and disappeared upstairs.
Without even using his super-hearing thanks to the age of the house, Superboy was able to follow Wally's steps to his room above before hearing a door click shut. Then, the hearing annoyingly kicked in. The boy's room must be much messier than Superboy had thought, considering how much rustling of fabric was happening. He glanced around the darkened living room, judging his surroundings for the evening, for his first foray into freedom, for night one outside the confines of Cadmus.
Superboy collected the toothpaste and brush and went in search of his bathroom. Could he call it his bathroom? Could he call anything his?
He found the bathroom.
Brushing his teeth turned out to be much more difficult than he would care to admit. He knew it well in theory, thanks to Cadmus' psychic programming, but in practice…that was another story. He fumbled with the detachable cap and lost it somewhere in the depths of the bathroom. Superboy then squeezed too hard on the toothpaste and squirted half the tube's contents onto the brush. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to try and dampen his frustration before actually brushing.
Once finished, Superboy returned to the living room, shut off the remaining table lamp and slowly sat down on the sofa, sending an incurious glance to the pillow which awaited him. Part of him was tired from all the emotion, as well as the breakout itself; mostly, though, he wanted to stay awake for just a little while longer, since he'd spent virtually his entire life asleep. He ended up staring down at the hands clasped in his lap; his hands, sure, but they weren't his hands, not really.
They were Superman's.
Superman's body. Superman's muscle. Superman's tan skin. Superman's bare feet. Superman's hair now being pulled at in Superman's grasp by Superman's hands. For Superboy, none of it was his, nothing was his. Everything Superboy was, it was all borrowed. Stolen. Photocopied.
Faked.
His surroundings were so unbelievably normal, it was almost surreal. One often speaks of the metaphorical 'roaring silence'; it raged with full force in the living room of the West household. The curtains were drawn, letting in a soothing cross-breeze through the open windows. Distant fireworks became more sporadic in their explosions as America finally went to sleep—a mercy to S.B.'s sensitive hearing. Creaking floorboards in Wally's room above soon stopped popping. Only the soft buzzing of summer insects remained to keep Superboy company.
Eventually, he motivated himself to lie down on top of the covers, letting the ceiling fan's slightly unbalanced revolutions mesmerize him. Superboy rubbed his hand softly along the fabric beneath him. The cotton was such a departure from the glass-and-metal pod he subconsciously—frighteningly—longed for. Why would he miss it? What was wrong with him? Saying it pales in comparison to the West sofa was a definitive understatement; but regardless, the couch's comfort was uncomfortable.
Hoping for a distraction from his runaway thoughts, he flopped over to one side and stared at the wall across the room. A large flat-screen television occupied a large portion of his vision, but surrounding it was an array of photos from the Wests' past. He was able to see them all too well thanks to his enhanced vision. One photo captured a beaming ten-year-old Wally in a Flash t-shirt standing next to the Flash himself.
'What I wouldn't give…' he thought as he remembered the awkward conversation outside Cadmus earlier that night. Despite the embarrassment, despite the rejection, there was an inexplicable inner fire driving him to want to get to know and eventually be Superman. 'Must be what little programming they managed to cram in me,' he reasoned darkly.
Superboy blinked deliberately to break his fixation on that photo and moved on to the others. He tried not to linger on the family portrait above the television, but somehow he just couldn't tear his gaze away. They were all smiling, all so happy and unified and loving and together. It only served as a painful reminder of what he definitely didn't have and definitely would never remember. His gaze turned to a glare.
For once, he was all too happy he didn't have Superman's heat vision, if only for the sake of the portrait's continued existence.
Wally finally forged a path to his dresser through the mess on his bedroom floor. He stripped out of his day clothes, having long since abandoned his Kid Flash uniform back at the Hall of Justice. He managed to summon the energy to pull on a tank top and his other basketball shorts. His phone then buzzed with a text alert.
Boy Blunder: Hey Motor Mouth, how's he settling in?
Wally: Well he hasn't smashed anything yet. Except my self-confidence.
Boy Blunder: Dang, he made quick work of that! I'll have to ask him for tips ;)
Wally quietly groaned en route to the upstairs bathroom.
Boy Blunder: How'd he do it?
Wally: Took off his freaking shirt. Dude is SERIOUSLY yoked!
Boy Blunder: He lifts actual buildings, you do glorified track and field. What did you expect?
Wally: Ha ha.
Boy Blunder: Seriously though, how's he *doing* for Night One on the outside?
Toothbrush in mouth, Wally glanced in the direction of the stairs, though a shut door blocked his view.
Wally: Better than you'd think, I guess. I finally got him to talk a little. And Cadmus must have included some etiquette because he was actually borderline polite to my mom.
Boy Blunder: Nice. Guess they got something right.
Wally returned to his bedroom and stared out his window at the last fireworks erupting in the distance. What the hell was Cadmus thinking? Cloning someone, and without their knowledge or permission at that? How on earth could Superboy ever hope to have a normal life? Or learn to trust?
He realized another text had arrived while he was spacing out.
Boy Blunder: Don't let him get too caught up in his own thoughts tonight. First day out of captivity is bound to be hard. I'll try to come tomorrow to help keep him company.
Wally: Don't rush. I think we'll be okay.
Boy Blunder: If you say so. Update me in the morning. I'm wiped out after today. I can't believe the League actually went for our idea! We're moving up!
Wally: Sure are! I'd say I won't be able to sleep tonight because I'm still riding on a high, but after all that work destroying an entire facility…
Boy Blunder: Ugh tell me about it. Ttyl
Wally: *peace sign*
Wally slapped his phone onto his nightstand and collapsed face-down in his bed. After the excitement of the day, it felt like it would just lull him to sleep and swallow him up into a nice, cozy, isolated little pod…
His eyes shot open.
'What am I doing? Rob's right. Superboy shouldn't be all alone for his first night! He needs…a friend.'
With a muffled whine of annoyance, he laboriously pressed himself off the mattress. Wally flipped over and swung his legs to the floor before collecting a few pillows and his comforter.
Superboy laid prostrate on the couch on top of the covers, his arms crossed and brow furrowed. A silent squeak on the staircase caught his attention, though, so he tensed, ready for attack. He sensed a change in air pressure from behind the couch and leapt up. Superboy grabbed his would-be attacker by their low collar and belt line and lobbed them up and over the sofa.
"Whoa! Dude!?"
As his infrared vision kicked in, Superboy identified the intruder and stopped the boy's momentum just above the coffee table which was mere millimeters from total destruction.
"What the heck, man?!" Wally demanded, hands locked onto Superboy's forearm for support. S.B.'s eyes widened dramatically as the situation registered, and he immediately righted Wally to stand next to the couch, surrounded by a field of pillows and blankets.
"Sorry…I, uh…" Superboy's face flushed red. He closed his eyes and slumped in humiliation.
Wally, still breathing heavily, slapped a hand onto S.B.'s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze while they both calmed. "It's alright, man… Just—not everyone is trying to attack you, okay? You're safe here."
Superboy nodded. Wally went about collecting the strewn bedding.
"What are you doing downstairs?" Superboy asked.
"My room was lonely," Wally grunted in reply. Wally kicked the discarded sofa cushions into position next to the sofa and added his spare pillows to make a bed of sorts. He tipped forward onto the cushions with a soft 'thump.'
Superboy quirked an eyebrow and laid back down himself. The two boys rested in silence for a few moments.
"So is this a—what's it called—a *sleepover* now?" Superboy asked, voice gruff as ever.
"Mmhm, sure, if that's what you wanna call it. Celebrating your first night of freedom. Parrr-taayyyy," Wally drawled sarcastically. He huffed.
Superboy watched Wally melt further into his makeshift bed. "Aren't sleepovers supposed to be...fun or something?"
"If you think I'm gonna stay up till 4:00am braiding your hair and talking about cute boys, you've got another thing comin'."
It was the strangest thing, something he'd never experienced before in his few hours of conscious life. But when Wally's lightheartedly absurd statement juxtaposed with the rejection from his original and his careening train of thought…
Superboy laughed.
It shocked Wally enough to make him laugh along with him, having completely forgotten the hour. He didn't laugh so much because it was funny; rather, it was more a celebration of unlocking an achievement with his new, grumpy friend.
"Wallace. RUDOLPH. WEST!" a voice hissed.
Wally gasped and stood to attention at the use of his full name. Superboy also got up, albeit much more sluggishly. Mrs. West stood fuming halfway down the staircase.
"What are you doing down here?!" the woman demanded.
"My room was too hot?" Wally suggested. "Heat rises and…thermodynamics and all that?"
His mother crossed her arms. "Do you have any idea what time it is, young man?! The entire household is asleep, but you two loons are down here laughing up a storm! You have exactly two seconds to quiet down, or so help me you won't get a single slice of bacon at breakfast! Understand?"
"Yes, Mom."
"Yes, Mrs. West," Superboy grumbled. His head hung in embarrassment.
"Don't worry, S.B. It's not your fault," she soothed, then turned to Wally with a cynical frown. "I'm sure it's Speedy Gonzales over here causin' all the trouble."
"Mo~om!"
Superboy looked between the two. "Who's Speedy Gonzales?"
The Wests both sobered, sending the room into a pained silence.
"Oh, hun," the mother said as she pressed a hand delicately to her chest.
Wally slapped a hand to Superboy's shoulder, so he turned to look at the redhead. "Looks like our plans for tomorrow were just decided: Looney Tunes marathon," Wally declared.
"Yes, emphasis on tomorrow," Mrs. West said. "Go. to. sleep. Good night."
"Good night," the boys chorused. Mrs. West mounted the stairs while they laid down again.
"So you're Wally West…and Kid Flash…and Speedy Gonzales?" Superboy clarified.
"And Roadrunner, Motor Mouth, Kid Mouth, Kid Smash, and about a million other names," the redhead replied, "none of which give me the respect my infinite awesomeness deserves."
"Not likely."
"Throwin' some serious shade over there, S.B. We're gonna have to see if you can take it as well as you can dish it out," Wally threatened lightheartedly.
"Try me."
"In th' m'rnin'," Wally grumbled into his pillow. He flipped over so he could speak more easily. "I dunno if not needing rest comes with the Kryptonian territory, but we speedsters need our beauty sleep."
Superboy shifted to his side and wondered whether he should say what was on his mind. In the end, he decided Wally was quickly becoming that type of friend.
"…Need as much as you can get."
A single index finger pointed indignantly into the air. "I know where to find some kryptonite, and I'm not afraid to use it…"
Any further half-hearted threat quickly died on Wally's lips as he succumbed to sleep. Superboy's eyes focused once more on the family portrait before glancing back at Wally, who had sprawled and now had a leg unceremoniously hooked over the top of the coffee table.
Maybe Superboy didn't have a smiling family and a home waiting for him. Maybe his mentor wasn't approachable or supportive. But looking at Wally and his family, as well as the other boys who had come to liberate him…maybe he wasn't as alone as he'd initially felt.
Superboy nestled his cheek into the pillow and slowly shut his eyes.
Night one.
The End, or Better Yet:
The Beginning.
As always, let me know what you thought! This is my first foray into the Young Justice universe alone (I've already started publishing a crossover, as stated before.), and I am much newer to this fandom than the one for which what I typically write (Danny Phantom). I don't have any other standalone stories planned for the near future, though I did get an interesting/funny idea for another brief DP/YJ crossover involving a couple background characters, but we'll have to see if that goes anywhere.
Chapter 5 of Recognized is coming soon!
-hiimian