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Good morning Keeliai, how are we all today?

[Steph is sitting at her console, leaning back in her chair with her legs propped up on the desk. She's smiling, and for those that know her, it's the sort of smile that should be extremely concerning. Those that don't know her may also be feeling like they're about to hear something they don't want to.

She is going to be a terrible person today.]

I'm going to preface this message by saying that anyone under the age of 16, or whatever the age of legality is where you're from, should tune out now, please and thank you. I'm not gonna be explicit or anything, but it's probably not going to be appropriate for kids. [she gives a pointed look, yes you, Damian, switch off the computer now.]

I was taking an anthropology class back home, and my professor happens to be here too. [she wrinkles her nose, like yes, I know that's super weird, how do you think I feel?] And he's been giving me assignments and stuff, because apparently being kidnapped by a giant turtle isn't a valid excuse not to keep up with coursework. The topic we'd been studying before I got brought here was human sexuality, and Professor Craig suggested I write a paper on kedan sexuality instead. [Hi Bruce.] Except, uh, after the last couple weeks, I'm not really keen on that idea.

But I have been thinking about all these people with superpowers running around, and like - we've got comics back home, right? But they tend to focus on the whole defeating supervillains and stopping alien invasions side of things, which is great, sure, I love a good action story, but there's something that just never really comes up.

[she looks directly at the camera, the very picture of scientific curiosity] Do they - or, do you, for the superpowered people in the audience - ever use their powers for sex? This isn't a rhetorical question, by the way, if you have used your powers in the bedroom, feel free to share with the class.

And in the interest of not excluding anyone from the conversation, anyone who's just a regular old human, or whathaveyou, you can discuss what sort of powers you'd like to have, and how you'd use them to impress the gender-of-your-preference.

Don't feel like you have to respond directly to me, you're more than welcome to talk amongst yourselves. I figured we could use a little lighthearted chat to take our minds off the situation. Don't you agree?

[She winks, clearly trying not to laugh, and sits back in her chair to wait for responses]

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Nah, but I've gotten to know him a little. [She feels so bad about lying] He's nice. [a beat] And his wife is like, fifty different kinds of awesome. I kind of want to be her when I grow up.

[She is a little serious there. Lois is rad. But she's also trying to keep the conversation tone light]

[slight incredulity.]

You haven't gotten that weird creepy 'look how nice I'm being to cover up for the fact I'm an asshole' vibe yet?

Not at all. I know that vibe pretty well, but Mr Kent's just a genuinely nice guy, as rare as that is. [the look of disdain on her face is for people who are secretly assholes]

[He purses his lips. Part of him wants to trusts Steph's judgement. The other part really hates how much Clark reminds him of Rick's fake-nice that he used to put on, for business meetings and the like. When it was just them and his mom the guy acted more like Tony Stark, but that was always... easier.]

Look, I don't want to argue. Just be careful around him, all right?

I will be. [She's serious, because she knows he is, and she doesn't want him to worry about her, especially when this isn't something he needs to worry about.

And then she takes a moment to address the rest of what he says] I wasn't - trying to start an argument. I just wanted you to know that he's an okay guy.

[because of Reasons]

[whoops he's a little agitated now.]

Why do you even care? It's not like I'm going to go out and electrocute the guy because he's a creep.

[Oh fuck can she undo that last part and start again she wanted to avoid this because she doesn't know how to talk about her suspicions]

I didn't think you were. [fuuuuuuuuuck.

Okay, maybe it'll be better if she makes it about Clark, not Brandon?] I just think you might've hurt his feelings.

[please let that work]

[... he just sort of stares in disbelief.]

You're worried about his feelings. Are you serious?

[That incredulity is still there, and there's a little bit of anger to it now too.]

[nope wow that really didn't work]

Fuck. [She didn't mean to say that outloud, but it's there now so she's just... going to let go of Brandon's hands and take a couple steps back, so she can scrub her hands over her face.

She did this all wrong, didn't she?]

Is it too late to say "I just want everyone to get along"?

[she needs like ten adults]

He's some guy you don't even know and you're worried about his feelings? What the hell!

[yep that sure is the unhappiest tone.]

Or is this a 'don't date someone my boss doesn't like' thing? Because hey, if it's him or me, I can walk.

[lashing out? maybe a little.

... probably a lot.]

What? [Genuinely taken aback by that, and she has to just stare for a moment before her brain catches up. She won't snap back, because she has no right to, even if it means swallowing down her instinctive defensiveness] No, of course not. I couldn't care less about that, and I'd quit, anyway.

[... She would, too. She didn't realize until she'd said it out loud, but there you have it]

Brandon, please. [Please what? She doesn't know how to say anything; she should have put more thought into it before starting the conversation.] I don't want there to be any bad feelings. For anyone. That's all.

[That's not too hard to believe, is it? Steph thinks she's the sort of person who'd try to make sure everyone was happy anyway, even without Brandon's issues and the fact she knows Clark]

No. That's bullshit. You can't just tell me how to act around anyone just because you want everybody to hug it out.

[HE IS SO OFFENDED ABOUT THIS. YOU CAN'T EVEN.]

I'm an asshole, Steph. It's part of who I am. You don't have to like it. But you don't get to boss me around, either.

That's not why I'm doing this! [Why isn't there a reset button for conversations?]

[Fuck it, she's just going to be honest. Trying to be tactful and subtle just made things worse] I don't care how you act around him. I care that you got defensive about a really specific thing and I'm trying to tell you that you don't need to worry.

[god she can't look at him.

she feels awful.]

What are you even talking about?

[oh no.

no, no, no, no--]

When I said I know that vibe? I meant I learnt it the hard way.

[she feels a little like she's going to throw up, but she wants him to understand]

And I know how to pay attention to people I care about.

[she's so sorry]

[nope nope nope they are not having this conversation.]

Dude, Steph, look, whatever you're thinking just-- stop, all right?

[did she just admit she was abused he actually

honestly doesn't know what the fuck this conversation is any more and he doesn't want to know. or think about it at all. or. anything.

because reasons.]

[She just watches him for a long moment, before sighing and pushing a hand through her hair]

Okay.

[Okay, she won't push it.

She just doesn't know what to do now]

[He stares back with all the subtlety and grace and emotional good health of a rabbit cornered by half a dozen angry dogs.

Which is to say: NONE AT ALL.]

Look, I gotta--

[> be Brandon
> turn and head for the door without finishing your sentence.]

Brandon. [She steps forward like she's going to try to grab his hand, stops herself, but follows him to the door anyway]

I'm sorry. I didn't mean-- [she doesn't know] I'm just sorry.

[She's trying hard not to think about what she just admitted

God why did she do that.]

[It's the tone of her voice that stops him, however briefly. He has one hand on the door to push it open.]

What do you even want from me? You want me to admit it? Yeah. Sure. Fine. My manager liked kids way too much. It went on for months, my Mom didn't believe me, and one day he--

[he chokes on what he wants to say.]

And I pretty much fucking melted him with electricity. There. Story over. Are we done?

[There is so much hurt and anger in his voice, but it's coldly distant. He might as well be telling a story about someone else.]

[Oh god. She flinches when he chokes on the words, she knows that feeling too well]

No. [It's an answer to his first questions, said in a quiet voice] I wasn't trying to make you admit anything.

[And then she's at a loss for words. She hates herself so much right now, for bringing it up, for continuing to push the subejct, for not just letting him leave.

But she has to say something, she owes it to him]

I'm sorry, Brandon. I-- You can leave. I don't want you to, but... if you do. You can.

[she won't try to stop him again]

[If he keeps staring at the door he's going to punch a hole through it, and he doesn't exactly relish the idea of broken knuckles, so he turns back to face her and presses his shoulders against it instead.]

You weren't trying to make me admit anything? You pushed me into it right from the start! Oh, that poor reporter guy, guess you should be nice to him so everybody can fucking get along. Bullshit you weren't trying to box me into a corner about this. Why did you--

[oops god fuck he's crying now]

Why the fuck did you have to push me? It's not important, it doesn't mean jack shit about who I am and I can't--

[he had his opportunity to leave and didn't take it. now he just slides down the door until he's hugging his knees. Picture of misery, thy name is.]

I can't take it back.

[god only knows if he's talking about the fact that it happened in the first place or the fact that he's telling her about it now.]

I'm not very good at this.

[She says it quietly as she walks over to him, moves to kneel down beside him, keeping a little distance so that she's not crowding him. Everything about this breaks her heart, and there's so much she wants to say, but she feels like an explanation needs to be the first]

I was trying to let you know there was nothing to worry about without having to bring anything like this into it. But I fucked it up, and I'm sorry.

[One thing down, even if she thinks he probably won't believe her]

And I know. I know it doesn't and I know you can't. It's not your fault.

[None of it]

Don't. Just-- don't.

[His tone is very flat, and you can bet he scrambled away from her about as far as he could get. He rubs the back of his hand across his cheeks, smudging away the tears.]

Sorry.

[She moves back a little, rests her hands in her lap and tries not to look like she's fighting back tears. This isn't about her.]

Do you want me to go? [regardless of the fact it's her suite; she can leave and give him some space, rather than making him go home like this]

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tw for rape/abuse

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tw for rape/abuse