Another one of those completely insane weeks where we got this done JUST before deadline. Here's hoping everyone enjoys.

Also, just a head's-up that we'll be going out of town April 22-29 and there will be no posting that weekend. The schedule will stay the same until then, ATU next week and one more Love and Other Headaches the day before we leave, but the posting schedule will pick back up on May 5. With the crazy insanity lately, we just need time to recharge and do some SERIOUS plotty goodness. Thanks for understanding in advance!

Sebast found his way home at four in the morning, exhausted but pleased with his lot in life. The little meet-and-greet with the bands had ended up with not one, but two very handsome young men who were quite interested in getting to know him better. Sven, tall and blonde and chiseled, and Daniel, who was mouse-brown and more rounded, were both obvious fans of more than just the music. Sebast had gone out to a club with them, he'd had a couple drinks and some dancing with the couple, and then back to their apartment for a few hours of energetic fun.

Now, though, all he wanted was sleep, and he wouldn't have gotten it if he stayed the night with Sven and Daniel. Sebast grinned a little, anticipating giving Kala all the salacious details over coffee in the morning. She was much more conservative about her love life than he was, but that was her prerogative and they respected each other's choices.

The room was pitch-dark when he let himself in, and Sebast considerately kept the noise level down, tiptoeing into the shower. He washed up quickly, dried himself off, and threw on a pair of boxers to sleep in. Considering the warm night, a shirt wasn't necessary. Still trying for ninja-like stealth to keep from waking Kala, who tended to startle easily at late-night noise, Sebast slid between the sheets and snuggled up to her, his arm sliding around her waist.

Something was wrong.

That wasn't Kala he was curled up to—the shoulders were too broad, bare skin met his naked chest, and Kala for sure didn't have any damn back hair. Sebast gasped in surprise, and only then caught the whiff of sex that wasn't coming from his own pores.

The man in his bed woke up then, kicking out in surprise and banging painfully against Sebast's shin. "¡Mierda!" he yelped, launching himself out of bed.

"What the hell…?" Alan's voice was sleep-rough, and he thrashed around to grope for the light switch, illuminating the room. Kala was just then sitting up, all eyes and tousled hair, yanking the sheets up to cover herself.

Sebast had seen it all before and didn't particularly care—about that. He'd figured Kala would eventually sleep with Alan; their relationship had been heading in that direction for a while. What shocked him was the fact that they'd decided to cross that threshold here, where he had to sleep, too. "Chula, what is this hairy bastard doing in my bed?" he asked, forcing his voice to tones of sweet reason.

"Kala," Alan said, and maybe he was getting ready to say something else, but to Sebast it sounded like an answer to his question, and speaking crassly of Kala was like waving a red flag before an already-irritated Spanish fighting bull.

"Yeah, I noticed that, hijo de puta. I can smell the sex-funk. Now shut up, the grownups are talking." With that he turned his attention to Kala, crossing his arms and glaring at her. To her, he spoke Spanish; for all its wonderful variety, English just didn't convey his aggravation. "Seriously, why the hell is he here?"

She replied in the same language, with an easy fluency that clearly startled Alan. "It was late and we were tired. I didn't know if you were ever going to show up, Chupi. I thought the Goth Viking and his boyfriend carried you off for good."

Sebast sighed. "Come on, Kala. You know our rule: never in our bed."

"Alan's sharing a room with his drummer. Where else were we supposed to go? The pool? That'd be great when it shows up in the newspaper. I'm sure Mom would love explaining that one around the office."

"Well if you've gotta get your freak on in our room, at least use the couch. I don't wanna sleep in his fuck-sweat," Sebast complained.

"Sebastiáno!" she yelped, blushing furiously.

Kala never used his full name, so he took it as his cue to calm down a little. "Look, I almost had a heart attack just now, Kala. I thought I was snuggling up to my favorite internally-heated pillow slash best friend in the whole wide world, and it was him instead. So forgive me if I'm a little worked up about it, okay?"

She softened, and they shared a smile. That was the moment when Alan decided to interject, "It's extremely rude to speak to each other in a language I don't know."

"So learn Spanish. There's fifty million Latinos in the U.S., and you'll wanna understand the names we're calling you," Sebast shot back in English.

"Guys, stop," Kala said sternly. "Alan, I'm sorry, but I shouldn't have let you stay over. Sebast needs someplace to sleep too."

"Are you seriously kicking me out of bed for him?" Alan asked, with a hint of anger.

Sebast couldn't resist responding hotly. "Listen, cabrón, I've been her best friend since we were fourteen. I was here long before you, and I'll still be here when she realizes you don't deserve to polish her goddamn boots. Kala is mi alma, my soul—nothing comes before that. Nothing. Not her men, not mine. You understand?"

As Alan eyed him, Sebast stood his ground, not giving an inch. Then Alan sighed. "Whatever. I've got an early slot tomorrow. I'll see when I come offstage, Kala." With that he got out of bed, found his pants, and let himself out of the room.

Kala cradled her forehead in one palm. "Well, that was a disastrous end to quite a good night," she muttered.

That, finally, cooled his temper. Sebast knew he was not a terribly forgiving person by nature; hot-headed and confrontational, he could also hold a champion grudge when irritated enough. But Kala was more important than making his displeasure felt, and besides he'd apparently done that well enough.

"Mira, mi Kala, te quiero, but we have rules for a reason. Our bed is where we both sleep. Neither of us wants to come home to sweaty man funk." He kissed the top of her head, and she lifted her chin to nudge into the kiss. "Now get cleaned up. I'm calling the front desk to get some clean sheets brought up here. Maybe if you promise not to bring anime-wannabe boy back here, I'll even put them on the bed for you."

"What a gentleman," Kala said sarcastically, swatting at his arm before she took herself off to the bathroom for a shower.

…

The best part about having kids grow up, Lois decided, was that when they came home to visit they really appreciated home in a way they never had when their belongings were scattered all over. Jason had come in Friday evening after class, and when she opened the door for him he'd hugged her hard enough to lift her off her feet. She might never get used to having her toes dangle a few inches off the floor when her son hugged her, but it was charming nonetheless.

Friday night was dining-out night, and Jason insisted on picking up the tab when they met Richard, Lana, and Kristin at a laid-back but thoroughly delicious pizza place. It had been a fun night, full of conversation about college courses and work and friendships and other good news. What they couldn't talk about in front of Kristin—and really shouldn't talk about in front of Richard and Lana, despite their insider status—was the Gotham situation. That had to wait until they were all home again.

Last she heard, Bruce's Tim was well on the road to recovery, which Lois was glad to hear. Bruce still had Gotham on lockdown, and while Kal-El tended not to bring office politics home, Jason had no problem grousing about it. "Cassie and I are sensible, we've worked Gotham before, there's no good reason not to bring us in," he'd complained. "Especially with Steph still champing at the bit to go after this guy. I'm worried about her, I'm worried about Tim, hell, I'm even worried about Uncle Bruce."

Kal-El had paused thoughtfully before saying, "If this had happened to me, Jason, I might've reacted the same way. When Kala was kidnapped, I did exactly the same thing Bruce is doing now. It's a panicked-father reaction. If someone took you from me, if I thought I'd lost you, and you came back to Metropolis so damaged in mind and personality that you attacked your sister—either of your sisters—I would probably want to lock down this city, too. I'd want to take care of you myself, because you're my son, and if you were that far out of control I wouldn't trust anyone else to deal with you. I'd be too afraid that you'd hurt them, or they'd hurt you, and besides I would feel it was my duty as a father to find you and stop you before you could hurt anyone else."

Lois had looked at him quietly, the hairs on the nape of her neck standing up in foreboding. God forbid anything like that should touch this family, but it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility. Mind control, red k, magic—all of those could affect Kryptonians. They didn't know what the future could hold, and the situation Kal-El imagined could have come true. She had no idea what she'd do if something like that happened to Jason, and hoped she'd never have to find out.

Jason, meanwhile, hadn't taken the explanation well, his head still lowered and a mulish expression on his face, one Lois knew well from his childhood. His stubborn moments had been few and far between, but quite memorable. Kal-El merely met his son's gaze, and after a moment he had continued, "In that situation, I would hope a friend would talk sense to me. And that's what I intend to do with Bruce, as soon as I can. Keeping Gotham locked down and everyone in the city on high alert is only escalating problems, and he'll see that."

"Good," Jason had said decisively, and they'd moved on to other topics.

Now, Saturday afternoon, he was being obtrusively helpful as he often was on his weekends at home. He'd already walked the dogs with her, taking Bagel so she could walk Chewie. And now he was rummaging through the fridge and pantry, planning to make dinner. Kal-El was out on evening rounds and might not be home to help out, but Jason was a fine cook on his own. Lois smirked to herself; another thing she liked about having him at college was the way all of his strengths and best characteristics kept coming to mind while he was home. The minor personality faults that were part of everyone tended to fade when they didn't see each other on a daily basis, leaving just the things that made her so proud of him.

"If I can intrude, Mr. Kitchen Wizard?" Lois said, laughing a little, and Jason turned his quick grin on her, blue eyes flashing with mirth. "I'll set up soufflé for dessert if you handle dinner."

"Sounds like a plan to me. No one makes a soufflé as good as yours, Mom, " Jason replied, making space for her as he grinned. Lois just ruffled his hair, returning the smile. Mother and son moved around each other easily in the kitchen. Ever since he was little, he'd wanted to help, and Lois remembered with a pang of nostalgia the days when he'd had to stand on a chair to help mix cookie batter. Now, he easily handed her some ramekins from the top shelf without even fully extending his arm.

"I've missed you, kiddo."

"I've missed you, too, Mom."

In the comfortable warmth of shared endeavor, Lois decided to broach a subject she'd been paying attention to, but not commenting on, for the last day. Truth be told, she'd noticed it well before that, but last night at dinner it had become obvious. To her, anyway. The disquieting note was as simple as it was odd: when Kristin asked what Elise was up to, Jason had an immediate and extensive reply.

That worried Lois, just a little, so she followed up on it as she brushed the ramekins with melted butter and coated them with sugar. "So have you heard from Elise lately?" she asked while Jason diced rutabaga and celery root. He already had lentils simmering in chicken stock on the back burner.

"Not really," he admitted. With super-speed, the dicing process could be reduced to seconds, but Jason often liked to take things slow and enjoy them more.

"Oh?"

"She's really busy with college this semester," he continued. "She's taking two labs and a lot of credit hours. And she's going to take some summer courses, too, trying to get some electives out of the way."

"So she's settled in at Berkeley fairly well? I know she was a little nervous when she first left," Lois asked, leading him on while keeping her back to him. Jason hadn't yet realized she was using interviewing techniques on him.

"Yeah, fairly well. I mean, she's not in as many campus activities and stuff because she's always studying."

"What about friends? She's a hell of a long way from home."

That was the kicker. Jason huffed slightly, and when he answered his voice held an unmistakable note of distaste. "She's made a couple friends in class and stuff. And she has a boyfriend, some guy named Corrin."

She gave a silent sigh. Yep, there it was in a nutshell. It wasn't entirely unexpected, but it made her sad for him all the same. "Really? Well, you two did decide to take a break."

"Yeah, I just didn't expect to see her posting all over her Facebook about this guy and how he takes her out to dinner and they go to the movies and stuff," Jason replied. He kept his voice level, but Lois noticed that the poor rutabaga was getting savagely diced.

Lois asked casually, still working. "You check her Facebook a lot, don't you?"

"I get alerts to my phone when she updates," he replied.

At that, she decided it was time to point a few things out to her son. Lois put the prepped ramekins in the freezer and turned to him. That got Jason's attention, and he stopped his assault on defenseless root vegetables long enough to turn a quizzical look at his mother. "Sweetheart, don't you think that that's kind of creepy?" Lois said, as gently as she could.

"Mom, she's my friend," Jason protested.

That left eyebrow arched, his mother smiling a little as she crossed her arms. There really were days that her son really thought he could fool her for about sixty seconds. Obviously this was one of them. "Yeah, but do you have any other friends set to alert? Dustin, maybe? How about your sisters or your cousins?"

His lower lip pouted out a little. "They're different. They'll actually call me. And Dustin never updates his Facebook status anyway."

"Annnd if Elise doesn't call you, or email you, or IM you, do you think she'd be happy to know you were getting alerts every time she updates her status?" Lois asked, crossing her arms. She caught a hint of a glower in his eyes and pressed on, "And if it wasn't Elise, what if it was some girl you know from class—do you think any of them would be happy to know any guy, no matter how nice he is, was getting alerts on their status while they were dating someone else?"

She knew her son. He wanted to protest; the frown creasing his brow was identical to her own, tenacious as any Lane could be. But he had some of Kal-El's cooler temper, too, and he didn't speak up rashly. Instead he hung his head and muttered, "No. No, she wouldn't."

Now that he'd seen his mistake, Lois' job was to help him understand it, and prevent the Kryptonian guilt complex from taking root. Lois took his chin gently and tilted his face up. "Sweetheart, I know you still love her. That doesn't change the fact that you have to let her go."

"But Mom, she's the one," Jason complained.

Lois chuckled. "You know, when your father was about your age, he thought he'd found The One, too. Since you don't have red hair, we know he was wrong." That got a smile from Jason, and Lois decided to continue that line of reasoning a little more. "Lana's still in his life, and she always will be. I'm even grateful to have her around—but don't let the cheerleader know I said that, she'll never let me hear the end of it. Jason, sometimes young love grows up into something wonderful, even if it isn't romantic. And Elise will always be part of our lives. She knows the truth."

"I know. It's just…" Jason trailed off, looking miserable.

"Elise is everything you want, and all you want is Elise," Lois finished for him.

"Exactly," he agreed.

Lois sighed. Sometimes it was hard to remember the days when she was so young and certain. In the years since first falling in love with Kal-El, she'd learned that doubt was an occasional part of love, and that reaffirming commitment after doubt only made it stronger. It seemed that love, like faith, was strongest when tested. "The thing is, Jason, Elise is nineteen years old. She's young and beautiful and she wants to feel like her options are wide-open. That doesn't mean she'll never come back to you, and it doesn't mean she definitely will. She just wants to feel like she has a choice in the matter."

Jason frowned again. "She does have a choice. Mom, she loves me. She's happier with me than she is with anyone else. I know she misses me as much as I miss her. Why can't she just be happy with her life?"

Chuckling, Lois turned down the heat just a bit on the bubbling lentils before they overcooked. Jason took that moment to quickly slide the celery root and rutabaga into the oven for a brief roast. Kitchen crisis averted, Lois looked at her son seriously. "Oh, sweetheart. Look, believe it or not, I do remember being young. Surprise, I was your age once. Jason, Elise has to figure herself out before she can be committed to you, Jason. You have to let her go, really let her go, as in stop Facebook-stalking her and everything else, so she can do that. If she's really the one, she'll come back. And if she's not, then she wasn't the one to begin with."

He started dicing an onion, his mouth set in an unhappy line. "I know how to let go of her Facebook and her phone number, but I don't know how to get her out of my heart. Mom, I don't even think that's possible."

"Well, there might be one way, you know. You could maybe actually take a shot at dating other girls," Lois offered.

Oh, the black look that got her! "Sure. I saw how that worked out with you and Daddy Richard. 'If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with' is actually pretty shoddy advice, Mom."

She laughed out loud. "Excuse me? I got free weeknight babysitting and kid-chauffeuring for three years, another twelve years of kid-sharing by appointment, and a very good friend for the rest of our lives. Plus man-bait to keep the redhead away from your father. It didn't work out with me and Richard, but I don't regret it at all."

"You don't?" Jason asked, puzzled.

Lois shook her head, smirking. "Not a bit. I never have. Jason, you were just a kid when all of that was going on and you missed a few of the finer details. No, he wasn't the one, but that doesn't mean that we weren't good together, and we're still good together. And we did love each other then and we do now. Just as friends, which we were always better at. You really can't say this to him, because no one should feed that ego, but Richard is a pretty incredible guy and I'm damn lucky to still have him in life."

Jason went very quiet, mulling over that thought as he slid the onion aside to be sautéed with some mushrooms later. The next task that needed doing was sautéing some chicken breasts, and he minced fresh thyme and rosemary to season them with.

Letting the silence spin out, Lois got to work alongside her son, melting chocolate and butter until she had a dark, smooth, creamy bowl of deliciousness. A dash of vanilla, and she set it aside to beat some egg yolks into a froth. Of course Jason waited until the stand mixer was running to say, "I'm not even sure I still know how to meet girls."

"Then you definitely need to get your mind off Elise and try dating someone else," Lois replied over the machine's whirring, adding some sugar and watching for the mixture to form ribbons. This kind of cooking was her style, relying on observation and intuition instead of reading a recipe card. Once the egg yolks were at the right stage, she cut the mixer off so she could fold them into the chocolate.

Meanwhile, Jason hadn't replied. "I know you forget sometimes, but you're only nineteen, Jason. This is going to sound like the stereotypical 'Mom' speech, but it's actually true. You do have your whole life ahead of you. Don't get me wrong, I'd love for you settle down with Elise and get married and have a wonderful life. You deserve to be incredibly happy. But I also don't want you to look back twenty years from now and wish you'd at least considered your options."

"Yeah," he sighed, still not convinced.

"Yeah," she said back in the same tone, mocking him until he looked at her. "We both know you don't want to hear that, but it's honest advice from someone who's got a little experience in that department. Your father and I took things for granted the first time around. I think we both assumed that, because we were so much in love, the world would revolve around us. And it doesn't work that way. You know the story. We had to fight for this marriage more than once. I think Elise is a little worried that things seem too easy with you, and she wants to be sure she's not just following the path of least resistance."

"She is the resistance," Jason muttered grumpily, and Lois just chuckled.

Whether or not he took her advice was up to him, but at least she'd convinced him to stop the cyber-stalking. If Elise had found out about that, Lois could just imagine her outrage.

…

Even if he closed his eyes and blocked his ears, he'd know where he was by the taste and texture of the air. Gotham City was soot and exhaust, fog and rain, old brick quietly crumbling into dust and the faint vibration of electricity. Kal-El hung above it, wondering for the thousandth time how different life would have been if he'd landed here instead of Kansas, or even if he'd moved here instead of Metropolis.

And just as often, he'd wondered how would Bruce's life have been different if he'd been raised somewhere else. Somewhere like Smallville, though it was far too tiny for the Waynes' wealth and circumstance, but still, he imagined it. Bruce Wayne brought up in a place where the worst crime of the decade was a car theft by joy-riding teens. How much of who they were was a product of their essential selves, and how much was circumstance and early environment?

They would never know how much of each personality was nature and how much was nurture. What Kal-El did know for certain was that they had several things in common: a finely-honed sense of justice, a dogged tenacity to seeing things through, and an overwhelming conviction to fight cruelty and evil and injustice wherever they found it. Not to mention a shared admiration for courageous, tempestuous women. Those commonalities, along with the mission they both pursued, made them friends.

Hovering above the city, Kal-El scanned for a telltale flicker of darkness within darkness, for a shadow that moved against the wind. He ultimately found Batman crouched on a roofline, his bat-eared cowl's silhouette invisible from every angle except this one. Carefully, Kal-El maneuvered himself to a position above and behind Bruce, listening in to make sure he wasn't dropping in at a bad moment.

Bruce was listening in to the police band and surveying the street below, but didn't seem to be onto anything urgent, so Kal-El dropped down to hover over the same roof. Before he could speak, Bruce turned his head to look over his shoulder. Kal-El hadn't made a sound, and there was no vibration from footsteps when he hadn't touched down yet, but he'd never surprised Bruce with his arrivals. He knew better than to ask how Bruce always knew when he was hovering nearby; the answer would surely be 'Because I'm the Batman'.

The eyes behind the cowl's lenses were keen, and asked a question Bruce didn't feel the need to voice: You know Gotham is on lockdown. Why are you here?

Kal-El crossed his arms, maintaining his hover a couple inches above the roof, his bright uniform mostly concealed by shadows. He let his expression and the tilt of his brows give his answer: I am a citizen of this entire world, and no place is closed to me. Also I want to talk to you. He added, quietly and with a touch of humor, "Getting you out of your city is a lot like removing a badger from its sette. It's not exactly easy."

Bruce nodded, once, and rose fluidly, as if he hadn't been sitting in a crouch for the last hour or two, possibly more. He walked to the edge of the roof and stepped off, spreading his cloak to glide. Kal-El followed, as Bruce had intended. By grapnel and glide and super-powered flight they reached the top of an old church, where Bruce stepped inside the highest tower, where the bells had once hung.

Kal-El did not make the remark about bats in a belfry that occurred to him. Bruce awaited him in the shadows, and his voice retained its on-duty harshness. "So talk."

Leading gently to a topic never worked with Bruce. He admired subtlety, true, but direct appeals worked better if the asker had the fortitude and knowledge to run the gauntlet of Bruce's rejections. So Kal-El said simply, "I—and some of the others—would like you to lift the lockdown on Gotham."

"Not until this business with Red Hood is finished, one way or the other," came the expected reply.

"At least let us help you. Some of us aren't completely useless at finding people who don't want to be found. And we might be able to bring a few extra resources to figuring out how this happened."

The cowl shook once, left to right, decisive. "No. My protégé, my problem."

"If it was my son, I'd be asking for your help."

"If it was your son, you'd need my help. I'm the only one in the League with kryptonite."

"That's not the point. You're my colleague, you're my friend, and you're a very good person to have around in a sticky situation. Three years ago I learned what happens when I refuse the League's help: you all get drawn into it eventually anyway. Besides, the kids are worried."

"Don't act as if I'm unaware that Superboy and Blur have both been in Gotham, along with Wonder Girl."

"Yes, they were—persuading Spoiler to follow your orders, if I recall correctly. None of them engaged Red Hood."

Bruce's eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "I would have stopped her myself, if I hadn't been deliberately interfered with."

"You don't have to do everything yourself. That's why we have the League, so we can help each other."

Slicing one hand through the air in a cutting-off gesture, Bruce turned away as if to go. Kal-El heard the report come in over Bruce's comm just before the man himself said it out loud. "You don't know what you're dealing with. He just set fire to a meth lab, with the dealers inside."

"I know better than you realize," Kal-El replied, and knew Bruce could hear him even as he stepped to the edge of the parapet. "He's your son. He's just like you, with no brakes, no restraint. He does everything you do, but he doesn't stop with putting them in the hospital."

"No. He puts them in the morgue, in very small boxes most of the time. I can't allow that." With those words he stepped off the edge, hurrying to the burning meth lab.

Kal-El could hear it, once he tuned his hearing to roar of flames. It was already too late for lifesaving measures; there were no heartbeats inside the ramshackle tenement that was being greedily devoured by fire. He could go put it out with freeze-breath, but sirens told him the GCFD was already on its way. Helping Bruce now would only antagonize him further.

Sighing, because while he'd known one conversation wasn't going to change Bruce's mind he had still hoped to end on a better note than this, Kal-El took out his cell phone and sent a message to D. Prince. It said simply: Tried, no luck. Your turn.

The answer was swift. O first. Then me. He'll see sense eventually.

Thumbs blurring with super-speed, Kal-El replied: He never stopped mourning. Now he's caught between grief and rage.

Story of his life, was her response. Kal-El had to agree, little as he liked it or what it meant for Bruce and his sons.

With that weight on his shoulders, he turned for home.

….

Dinner was just about ready, the lentils and roasted vegetables perfuming the house with a savory scent that made Jason's mouth water. While Lois finished her chocolate soufflé and set it in the refrigerator to chill, Jason set the table, making three places since Dad was expected home any moment.

The French doors opened, and Jason called out loudly, "Hi, Dad!"

"I'm not Dad, you incredible geek," came the laughing reply, and Jason dropped the forks and rushed to the living room.

"Kala?" He hadn't expected her; other than their brief collaboration to stop Steph from hunting down Red Hood, he hadn't seen his twin in almost a month. Seeing her standing there with a big smirk on her face, Jason couldn't express his happiness any other way than to grab her around the waist, pick her up, and swing her around.

She shrieked with joy, thumping his shoulders and kissing his cheek. "Lizardboy! Knock it off or people will think you missed me or something!"

"I did miss you, Elvira," Jason muttered, setting her down but squeezing her in a tight hug.

Kala gasped melodramatically. "You're squishing me!"

"I like squishing you," he replied, and squeezed tighter.

"Mom … help … hug … of death…" Kala wheezed. Sure enough, Lois had come to the doorway into the living room and was shaking her head in amusement at them.

"Why am I not surprised that the half-alien garbage disposal shows up when we're about to eat?" Lois teased, but once Jason let her go she hugged her daughter just as long. Kala just snuggled in happily.

"Hey, I got the freeloader gene from you, Mother dear," Kala replied, and smooched her mother's cheek, leaving a smudge of purple lipstick. Seeing it, Jason automatically rubbed his own cheek and saw his fingers come away purple.

"Are you sure you can stay for dinner?" he asked hopefully, rubbing the smear away on the tail of his shirt. It would come out in the wash later.

She waved a hand airily. "Yeah, the boys are off doing testosterone-related bonding stuff. Which probably involved beer and competitive belching. That's fine, it helps them work together as a band, but I'm not invited because having a girl around would mess up the boys'-night vibe. Whatever, I have you to come home to."

"What about the boyfriend?" Lois asked perceptively.

Kala rolled her eyes. "Currently making my life a drama llama farm. Alan is being a complete pissy bitch right now. I'll fill you in on the details later, but after what happened last night and our conversation this afternoon, I offered him some of my Midol and told him to call me when he got his panties un-bunched."

"Ouch," Jason said, nevertheless impressed. Kala never stood for nonsense with her boyfriends, which was why most of them were out of her life before he had a chance to learn their names these days. Dustin was the only one she'd ever been willing to make concessions for, and he had never asked for much since he loved her just as she was. It still saddened Jason that the two had split up.

About then, a familiar red and blue blur arrived on the balcony, and a moment later Clark was inside. "Kala! I didn't expect you, sweetheart."

"Daddy!" She jumped into his arms for a hug, and he swung her around too—gently, though. Jason had almost whacked her heels against the sofa.

When he set her down, Clark looked at Kala with such love in his eyes that it made Jason's heart tighten. Not with jealousy, for he saw equal love and pride in his father's eyes on a regular basis. No, there was a note of sorrow lurking beneath his expression, something Jason could sense like a piano just slightly out of tune, and he knew the talk with Uncle Bruce hadn't gone well.

I wish there was something I could do, he fretted, for the hundredth time. As it stood he couldn't even go see Tim, although Red Robin had made his way into Titans Tower at least twice since the attack. It had been good to see him up, around, and annoyed; he'd given Jason and Cassie a thorough chewing-out for not updating the log file on their current cases. Much to Tim's surprise, Cassie had hugged him and told him they'd left it just so he had something to complain about. Which wasn't true, but it did mollify Tim and smooth over any awkwardness caused by the cast that was still on his arm.

Sighing, Jason went to get more cutlery, setting the table for four now. He caught his father's eye as he set Kala's place, and they shared a smile. For a moment, everything else—the Titans, Elise, Kala's boyfriend, everything—receded. Both of them knew how precious these moments as a family were.

And then, before it could get too heartwarming, Clark said, "So I hear the Blur was sighted on a case with Superboy again."

"Yup, in Gotham, no less, which is a total no-fly zone these days, but the Blur is no one's obedient soldier," Kala replied cheerily.

Lois chortled. "Yeah, the tabloids whipped up that speculation about 'Blazur' again, only now they're calling it Supeblur. I think they sound equally ridiculous."

Jason and Kala both made retching sounds in perfect unison. "Oh Lord, again? It's not bad enough that they just guess on the 'relationship' between us; they also have to give us the lamest 'ship name ever," Kala complained, wrinkling her nose at her twin.

"See, you have to be specific with it. I just think it's gross. Where do people get this stuff from?" Jason groaned, making a face of his own.

Lois and Clark looked at their nearly-identical expressions of repugnance and broke into laughter, lightening the mood considerably.