Kryptonite and Scooter Ankles ||J. Kent ||

Part 6:

A/N: *screamches in leg warmers* 

_______________

6:45am rolled around in a fuzzy haze thought the kitchen windows. Wayne Manor was quiet at this hour, as most of —if not all — of its inhabitants were out cold on unholy amounts of painkillers to sleep off last night's patrol. None of the bats would be up until significantly later in the day.

Except for Damian.

The moment he got home from patrol, he took his aspirin with a cup of coffee, and set up camp at the kitchen table. He would find that teased dirt on Luthor, even if it killed him. Then he'd personally run that eagle headed egg boi through with his katana.

It was the very least that man deserved.

That being said, it was also safe to say that the search wasn't going well, either. Given, he'd uncovered many things to get the guy put away for a while, but none of it really held the gravity to shut Lex freaking Luthor up about the Superfam's literal secret identities.

The more he looked, the more he grew both weary and intrigued. That, and multiple times his computer crashed and restarted with all the programs and surveillance he was running all night.

Roughly twenty minutes later, two sets of footsteps came down towards the kitchen. Damian closed his laptop just as Tim came in, followed closely by his least favourite Titan.

"What're you doin?" Kon asked, slipping awkwardly behind Tim to use him as a human shield.

"I live here," Damian said, squinting. He hadn't remembered Kon being here before patrol — "What're you doing here? It's seven in the morning,"

"And that, little bird," Kon-El said, ushering Timothy behind the counter to put distance and a solid obstacle between them. "Is none of your itsy bitsy business, is it?"

Damian smiled viciously. "Can't wait to tell Father all about how the two of you were —"

"Okay, quite enough," Tim said as he reached for the coffeepot, visibly disappointed when it was empty, and murmured, "Who drank my coffee?"

It took him a painful moment to put two and two together and look up to see Damian, eyes darkly bagged, in front of a computer with a smoking fan, and a mug with stained rings of coffee on the insides.

"Since when did you drink coffee?"

"Since last night, apparently. I needed to stay awake,"

"What were you trying to do?"

"If it were your business, I would have told you,"

"Aight, fine," Tim said, throwing his hands up. "Whatever,"

Damian watched them prepare more coffee, judging. He didn't understand what Timothy saw in Kon; the Superclone was loud, and boisterous with a flare for the dramatics, whereas Tim was the literal definition of a depressed introvert. Most days he didn't even have the motivation to get out of bed, birthing the Batfam's unofficial motto: You Don't Have To Wake Up If You Were Never Asleep To Begin With.

Damian loved watching Richard and Alfred cry internally whenever said motto was initiated, but if Bruce accepted it, then there was nothing that could be done.

More judging got Damian thinking.

And thinking got to over thinking.

Of course he wouldn't be able to find what he was looking for. He was a bat. Why on earth would a bat have access to Superman's blackmail on Lex Luthor?