Chapter Text
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“WHY does this always happen to me?” Billy gasped out as his head hit the concrete. He held his side, which would soon be a mottled purple and blue. The ginger cat hid under Billy, and he was doing his darndest to protect it. Freddy will kill me, he winced .
He had been known him for a few years, and even after learning about his heroism, they had stood by him. Billy wasnt with the most understanding foster parents right now, a Mr. Steven who would drink himself into a stupor and a Mrs.Steven who might as well be a baby deer for how little she did to stop her husband's reign of terror above Billy, Kaylee and Stacy, and baby Mikey, the four fosters they were taking care of. So Billy had run away. But he was sick.
Of course, Billy had managed to catch a cold, and would be better off in the home than on his own.
So, unfortunately, Billy was on his way home when he found this teenager kicking some poor, yowling cat in an alley behind him. Yes, the superhero, Captain Marvel, the big red cheese himself, was getting jumped by some bitch named Alex and his goons, and all along, it was all because he tried to save a cat. This stupid ginger cat that he was now shielding with his body.
“Look, is the little girl crying? What’s wrong, princess? Trying to protect this kitty? ” Alex howled with laughter, nearly doubling over. Billy could feel blood seeping from a scrape on his cheek, and he attempted to sit up to fight back, but he was kicked back down with the cold, unforgiving boot of one of Alex’s goons.
“Damn, boss, she’s kind of pretty~” Goon #1 growled, kneeling to reach down at Billy’s face. This just went from bad to actually the worst. Billy froze before sending a kick to Goon #1’s crotch, grinning at the scream of contempt that unfurled from Goon #1’s throat. Try being trans in Fawcett City, Billy, we’ve seen how well that's been turning out- Billy was interrupted by a particularly agonizing kick to his head, which made him feel a tad nauseous. He rolled over and dry heaved, mind swimming with the laughter of Alex and his goons.
“Lay off the face, will you?” Alex asked annoyed. “I want to be able to see her when I-” Then, Billy all but blacked out. “Her? I’m sorry, I only see a boy, and now you’re about to be blind if you weren't before, you fucker.” Good one, Billy thought, before promptly blacking the fuck out, into sweet oblivion.
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.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.
“Her? I’m sorry, I only see a boy and a she-cat, and now you’re about to be blind if you weren't before, you fucker.” Klarion growled.
Somebody was fucking kicking Teekle, some sick fuck . This was the worst. The worst. Especially because he had finally found Captain Marvel's identity, because Captain Marvel was his age. Maybe a year younger. (Physically). Not only was he thirteen, but he was kind and nice, and he had tried to protect Teekle. So… y’know… now he had to help the fucker.
Something in his chest ached when he saw the bloodied boy, and he decided it was bitter, bitter rage. After kicking their asses, ( Permanently blinding ALL of them, you’re welcome.) And when he had Teekle back into his arms again, he kissed on her little face and-
Ooooh yeah. Bloody boy. Beautiful bloody boy . What? Teekle judged him, and Klarion scoffed. Slip of the mind. Teekle licked Klarion’s cheek, and Klarion looked down at the boy, who looked like he could be part of a Renaissance painting.
His skin was eerily pale, and from what Klarion could see, his hands were scoured with small scars and also traveling up his arms. His deep, starved collar bones had pooled moonlight in them, the moonlight drenching his bony figure and highlighting the remainder of his tears.
Klarion blinked, and reached down to touch the boy’s pale face, and snaked down to touch his neck, definitely to check for a pulse. For sure, and not because he simply wanted to feel his skin. Klarion hummed to himself, feeling how warm the skin was. It ached with sweat and warmth, and Klarion gently lifted Captain Marvel’s head into his lap, and teleported himself back to his current home base.
His current home base was an apartment he lived in (Not owned), and it was stocked full of various magical items and other trash, and a whole lot of cat toys. But Klarion laid down the ravenette on the large king-sized bed that definitely did not have sheets on it. The thing looked like a teenage boy lived there. Which made a whole lot of sense, as one did, in fact, live there.
Klarion did not age, no, but he was still 15 psychologically. Age was a scam, like taxes.
Klarion hiked up The Little Red Cheese’s shirt as he avoided his eyes from the sports bra top half, feeling his face heat up, and he saw mottling blue and purple and black swirling together, hinted with yellow, flayed over the small superhero's bony side.
Klarion took a deep, deep breath. He took a second, thought for a minute, and then found a balm to spread on his side, turning his head, and spreading some on the wound of his cheek as well. The balm must have felt awfully cold, but Captain Marvel only sleepily flexed his hand. Klarion stood up and stepped back after wrapping his pale body with almost equally white bandages.
He put a cool compress over his sweaty forehead, and resisted the urge to brush the hair out of his face. He ruffled it up instead.
He found a large black T-shirt that would fit the ravenette, and neatly folded his red hoodie on the bedside table, and Teekle curled up on it. “Teeks, no-” Klarion grumbled, and Teekle blinked at him smugly. Klarion also snapped his fingers to switch Captain Marvel’s shirt with the large black T-shirt, which had a cat on it that said ‘ Do witchy whatnot ’. Captain’ll love that one~ Klarion gleefully thought, and once he was sure that Captain Marvel was asleep, he got to work.
He very gently took his favorite pen, and a sheet of stickers he stole from a convenience store, and began dabbing the stickers all over Captain Marvel’s face. Little black lettering that wrote various sayings, such as ‘ sucker’ ‘dork’ ‘loser’ and whatnot. Once he was satisfied with his face, Klarion moved on to his arms.
He doodled, drawing Captain Marvel, and god, this kiddo- they weren't- they weren't Captain Marvel. At least not how Klarion had experienced him. Not a stuck-up, magical prick. Nope. Not some I-am-holier-than-thou attitude. Not a big, bulky adult who didn't get it, but a lanky, skinny kid who had seen the worst of the world and come out the other side.
And the worst…? Klarion didn't hate him. Not a bit. Annoyed? Maybe. But he understood, and he just got it. And Klarion flexed his hand with a breath out, looking up at the ceiling. This was the worst. He looked out the window to see a beautiful view of Gotham’s smoggy sky. He opened it and closed it again. Then, it shifted briefly to the void, then to a view of Fawcett City. “Well, Teeks, we’ve got ourselves a superhero.”
.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.
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Billy woke up feeling… much better. So much better. He was wearing an unfamiliar shirt and sweatpants, and he looked to the left. A dirty apartment, stocked with various magical whatnot. Herbs hung from the ceiling, along with somewhat fresh flowers that might eat you. Lots of potted plants, some evil-looking looking while some would fit into a Disney movie. The bed’s sheets were falling off, scrunched in a corner of the mattress. It stenched of magic.
Billy, as the champion, could feel magic. He could feel the dark side, he could feel the light, he could hear its symphonies. He loved to hear it, it was all special. Constantine’s magical signature smells like smoke and whisky, with a hint of oak and something vanilla-y. Zatanna’s magic smells like flowers and something like childhood. That smell you can't quite place. Violin haunted the air around her magic. This magic smelled different. This magic smelled like… It smelled like bitter chocolate and something… sour. Something that stenched of the bitter, dark magic. Bitter chocolate… fresh cut grass… and maybe something like the general vibe of a hot topic.
The magic that hummed in the walls sounded like something Billy couldn't describe, but he wanted to listen to it all the time. The rumbling of a laugh bout to be uttered, the hum of magic, the
The scent was… strange. That strange emo fucker scent- Klarion. He was in Klarion’s apartment. Which was- he glanced out the window, and he saw a Fewcett view. Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Billy’s eyes go wide, and he tenses himself. He saw a ginger cat, a beautiful ginger tiger-like cat with green eyes. “Oh… hey, Teekle.” The ravenette smiled.
Teekle immediately purred up to his hand, and Billy lifted the cat gently. Teekle licked his cheek, and Billy smiled. The cat’s rough tongue was rubbing his cheek raw, but Billy couldn't bring himself to care.
Billy smiled as he saw the doodles all over his arms, as well as ‘dork’ written on his forehead. Lots of stickers.
Klarion was the villain the champion enjoyed fighting the absolute least. Klarion wasn't ‘inherently evil’, exactly. Nope. He liked chaos, not discord. He liked chaos, not death. He liked witchcraft and wicca, and like Constantine, he rejected the ‘evil’ stereotype. He wasn't wrong, actually. He reminded Billy of some of his old foster-siblings. They would play pranks out of pure attention-seeking behavior.
Billy just didn't want to fight Klarion. If anything, he wished they could be friends.
That's when the front door opened, and Billy crept out of the bed only to see a prince of chaos himself walking in holding two grocery bags, looking so… normal.
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.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.
Klarion actually did have a disguise, thanks a lot. He had a beanie to flatten his weird hair horns, and otherwise, he just looked overly pale, slightly blueish, but he could change that with a bit of magic. He just slipped on an oversized ‘Mindless Self Indulgence’ T-shirt and baggy jeans, as well as a proboboy offending amount of gothic, emo, and witchy accessories.
Klarion loved his eyeliner and gothic look, and he would fucking fight you on that, okay? Also, he was super-duper calm. The calmest. Oh, so calm. Not because he had the CHAMPION. OF. MAGIC. In his apartment.
Fuuuuuuck.
Klarion knelt in an alleyway, hiding behind a dumpster. He wrapped his arms around himself and looked at his feet. His eyes burned, but he smiled anyhow and stood up… after maybe 15 minutes. It was fine. This was great.
This was fantastic. Chaotic.
Thanks to his strange apartment, he could change it to anywhere in a few locations he cursed. Sometimes it was in the void, sometimes it was in Gotham, sometimes it was Bludhaven or Fawcett, sometimes it was in Central City. Who knows. (A lot of opening and slamming doors in order to get where he needed to go, it turns out.) At the moment, he had ended up in Central City. The window should still see Fawcett, if Captain Marvel woke up.
Klarion tucked two cartons of double-chocolate-chunk-chocolate ice cream under his arm. He grumbled at the price and went straight to the candy aisle. He looked to the left and saw a tall, Brunette man wearing a red hoodie. He flashed a grin at Klarion.
“What's up, kid? Having girlfriend trouble?” He nodded at the younger. Klarion sighed and smiled cheekily. “I don't talk to strangers.” Klarion said. The brunette snickered. “Good one.”
“I'm not!” Klarion bristled. He got a remarkably good vibe from the Brunette. He felt like he had seen him before, but he couldn't place it. Klarion brushed it off. “For a friend,” Klarion mumbled. The man laughed. “Oh, you’re down bad. I’m Hal, by the way.” Hal was piling sour candy in a cart, and Klarion stared at him. “Trying to kill someone with all that candy?” Klarion grimaced. Klarion paused, and handed him a paint pen. “Put it in their bag. Or bed, if you’re feeling evil. Open it, it’ll get all over their whatever, and they’ll never be able to prove you did it.”
The man- Hal, laughed at that, snickering. “You’re evil, kid.” Klarion bristled again, and gave him a stink-eye. “My name isnt kid, it’s-” Congrats, me, you just majorly fucked yourself over. Why would you say that? Come up with a fake name, come on- “Klair, you freaking asshole.”
The man stared at him for a whole three seconds, before apologizing. “Oh, I’m sorry, I really thought you were a boy.” Hal backtracked, apologizing. Klarion was equally panicked now, because what? . “No, no- I am, actually. My parents uh-” Abandoned me? Then everyone else attempted to burn me alive? They were probably a part of the crowd that wanted me dead? Wanted Teeks dead? That won't do with casual conversation at a gas station. “-I’m adopted. It’s a cultural name, apparently. It’s spelled with a K, too.” Klarion shrugged, a sly, wobbly smile still on his face.
In all the years he had been fucking around, causing chaos, he had never been asked his name while doing much else. What a travesty. Now his name was Klair, with a K. Klarion loved it. An unconventional name, challenging the stereotype and status quo? What beautiful chaos.
Hal grinned. “Well, that's awesome.” He then looked around. “Where are your parents?” Klarion sucked at his teeth. This would be terribly fun. “Abandoned me too, by the looks of it. I’ve been living by myself for the past few years, with my cat. Don't you know it’s terribly rude to ask about that whatnot?” Klarion stuck out his tongue at the taller in fake offense.
Hal seemed undeterred, though his smile drooped. “That’s rough, Klair. Really sorry to hear about that.” The Brunette looked terribly easy to manipulate, so much so that Klarion took pity on him. “Not an issue for me. See you around, Hal.” He turned to go, but he felt a hand on his shoulder. Don't be afraid to ask for help. I’ll probably see you around again, but… if you ever need an adult, reach out.” Klarion took the receipt the older man had handed him, and looked down at the phone number.
Klarion nodded and walked out of the gas station without paying, like a true American.
.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.