Chapter Text
7:04 AM – Titans Academy Dorms, (Billy Batson’s Room)
Billy Batson woke up with a frown already on his face.
He wasn’t the type to wake up moody. Normally, he was a hop-out-of-bed, brush-teeth-while-beatboxing, devour-breakfast-and-wink-at-the-sky kind of guy.
But today?
Today felt off.
The air in his room was still. Too still. Like the Rock of Eternity holding its breath.
He sat up slowly, squinting at the gray light bleeding through the curtains. A pulse of low thunder rumbled in the distance, despite the skies being clear.
“Okay,” he muttered, rubbing his neck. “That’s not ominous at all.”
He swung his feet out of bed, still feeling the weight of something. Not dread exactly — just a weird tension. Like the kind of static charge that clings to you before lightning strikes.
He checked his watch.
7:04 AM. Ethics was in less than an hour.
He sighed.
“…Gotta stop manifesting disaster."
7:47 AM – South Wing Corridor, Just Outside Ethics Class
Billy shuffled toward class, hoodie over his head, red sneakers squeaking faintly on polished floors.
Most students were still yawning, some sipping coffee, others grumbling about how “early” seven AM was for an ethics class.
Billy passed Sideways, who was using a reflective surface to fix his hair, and Diego (Circuit), who looked way too alert for this hour.
“You look like a storm cloud,” Diego noted.
Billy shot him a sleepy glare. “Feel like one too.”
Then the hallway lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then an unnatural buzz.
A warning chill ran down Billy’s spine.
From the next hallway over — the south training gym — came a shout.
Then a pop.
Then a blinding burst of blue-white light.
And then—
BOOM.
Billy didn’t flinch.
He just sighed.
“There it is.”
8:05 AM – Emergency Protocol Broadcast
The announcement came via intercom, but also through glowing magical sigils on the walls — a Zatanna-led safety enchantment installed after the last 'Uncontrolled Kraken Incident'.
Nightwing’s voice crackled over the speakers, calm and clipped:
> “Attention all students: Effective immediately, all classes are suspended. Magical containment procedures are underway. All students are to remain on campus. I repeat—do not leave the school grounds.”
Billy stood near a group of second-years, watching chaos unfold as reality-stitching spells zipped through the cracked tiles of the gym.
Shards of phantom flooring were still flickering in and out of existence, while Zatanna and Raven coordinated the slow weave of rebuilding.
Jeremy Mott sat in a guilt-ridden daze, surrounded by healing auras and a very irate Conjuration TA.
Billy gave it one more minute.
Then walked away.
8:25 AM – Dormitory Hallway, Just Outside His Room
He ducked into his room, opened his enchanted closet door, and stepped into the swirling golden corridor of the Rock of Eternity.
The walls hummed with timeless energy. The statues of the old gods loomed high, silent, patient.
Billy tapped a rune on the nearest arch and muttered, “Fawcett Tether.”
The doorway shimmered, forming a spiral gate of stormlight.
8:27 AM
As the portal stabilized, his student datapad buzzed one more time.
> STUDENT ADVISORY: CAMPUS LOCKDOWN IN EFFECT. DO NOT EXIT. THIS IS NON-NEGOTIABLE.
> — Titans Academy Admin
Billy glanced at it.
He smiled.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “We’ll call it a flexible guideline.”
And then, in a flare of gold lightning, he vanished.
Off campus.
Off the grid.
8:40 AM – Fawcett City, Downtown
Billy Batson emerged from the back alley near Gus’s Corner Diner, red hoodie pulled up over his hair, bag slung casually over one shoulder.
He stood there for a second, taking in the golden morning light washing over the city. Fawcett was already alive — warm smells from bakeries, clinks of silverware on ceramic, distant laughter, even a guy playing guitar for tips on the corner.
Charming. Clean.
Classic Fawcett.
And quiet.
Too quiet.
Billy wandered down the block, casually scanning for
—robberies? Nope.
—muggings? Nothing.
—magical relics acting weird? Nada.
—someone yelling “Help, superhero!” in an alley? Not even close.
He ducked into a convenience store just to see if anyone looked suspicious.
A middle-aged lady offered him a free pastry sample and called him “sweetheart.”
“I don’t trust this peace,” Billy muttered as he chewed a blueberry danish in suspicious defeat.
9:03 AM – Above the City, on His Cloud
So he went where he always went when he couldn’t go anywhere else:
Up.
High above Fawcett’s copper rooftops and art deco spires, a puffy white cumulus drifted lazily like a boat made of memory.
Billy sat cross-legged on it, elbows on his knees, chin in his hand.
The sun was warm. The breeze soft.
Below, kids played. Buses rolled.
A street magician pulled a coin from a kid’s ear and got applause.
Peaceful.
Too peaceful.
Billy tilted his head. Then rolled over onto his back.
“Okay, okay,” he muttered, staring at the sky. “Fawcett, buddy, pal. I love you. I do. But this is deeply unsettling. Not even a cat in a tree? No prank gone wrong? Nothing?”
A nearby bird cawed once as if in sympathy.
Billy closed his eyes.
He tried to relax. Really tried.
He shifted. Lay on his side.
Then his stomach.
Then spun in a slow circle with his cape (which had unhelpfully appeared on its own) billowing too dramatically.
“...Nope.”
He sat up again, exasperated.
“I’m a literal storm god and I’m bored.”
He paused, squinting.
“…And apparently whining to myself.”
9:25 AM – Still on the Cloud
He tried reading a comic book.
He tried practicing calligraphy using lightning sparks in the air.
He even tried napping.
But something inside him kept humming. Not loud. Not urgent. Just… restless.
He wasn’t tired.
He wasn’t stressed.
He wasn’t even sad.
He just didn’t feel anchored.
And maybe it was the part of him that knew lightning didn’t stay in one place long. Or the kid inside that still hadn’t quite learned how to be still when there was nothing left to fix.
Maybe it was the silence.
Maybe it was being sixteen and alone above a city full of people who cheered for Captain Marvel but never noticed Billy Batson at the diner counter.
He exhaled sharply, rubbing his face.
“Alright,” he finally said, standing up. “Screw this. If crime won’t come to me, I’m going to go find someone who looks at clouds and doesn’t feel like they’re wasting time.”
He pointed toward the sky — toward Gotham.
“And if Batman calls me dramatic again, I’m telling him I learned it from him.”
10:14 AM – Wayne Manor, Gotham City
The first thing Billy felt when he crossed into Gotham was the cold. Not just the chill in the air — Gotham’s cold was personal. Like the city had decided it was too tired for optimism and wanted everyone to feel it.
He walked up the winding path to Wayne Manor, cloaking himself in a small enchantment of forgetfulness. Nothing serious — just a soft blur that nudged curious eyes away from asking why a teenager was strolling up to a billionaire’s front gate like he owned the place.
He didn’t knock.
He didn’t buzz.
He just approached.
The gate opened.
Of course it did.
10:23 AM – Wayne Manor Foyer
“Ah,” said Alfred Pennyworth, without looking up from his silver tray. “The weather forecast did mention thunder.”
Billy grinned. “Hi, Alfred.”
The old butler turned, one eyebrow already arched. “Master Batson. I presume today’s visit is another one of your 'instinctual check-ins'?”
Billy stepped inside, shaking off rain that hadn’t started falling yet.
“I woke up and something felt weird.”
“You’ve just described every day in this household.”
“Fair point.”
Alfred glanced over his glasses. “Shall I inform Master Wayne you’re here?”
“No need,” Billy said, pointing toward the east wing. “He already knows.”
“Of course he does,” Alfred muttered, leading him toward the hall with practiced elegance. “He also said — and I quote — ‘If the boy brings snacks again, tell him the Batcave is not a vending machine.’”
Billy reached into his bag and pulled out a package of imported sea-salt caramel brownies.
“Bribery is a language of love.”
Alfred took the brownies, inspecting the label. “At least this time you’ve brought offerings worth the moral compromise.”
10:41 AM – The Batcave
The Batcave was as vast and dramatic as ever — a cathedral of silence, data, and unresolved tension. Monitors flickered with coded readouts and cross-city surveillance. The giant coin and mechanical dinosaur stood in quiet vigil.
Batman was already there.
He was always there.
Standing at his central console, gauntlet fingers clicking across touchscreens, expression unreadable.
Billy approached quietly.
No costume.
No thunder.
Just red hoodie, sneakers, and the scent of fresh brownies trailing behind him.
“You could’ve stayed in Fawcett,” Batman said without looking up.
Billy shrugged. “Fawcett was… too perfect.”
A pause.
“I hate when there’s nothing to fix.”
Batman said nothing. Which was often his way of saying he understood.
Billy walked up beside him and looked over the data — a heat signature map of Blüdhaven, a redacted League report, and what looked like Damian’s latest report card.
“Anything I can help with?”
“Not today.”
“Cool.”
Billy hopped up onto the edge of the Batcomputer platform and sat cross-legged, fingers laced behind his head.
For a long time, they just sat like that.
Not talking.
Not working.
Not saving anything.
Just existing in the same space.
Billy exhaled slowly. The static that had followed him all morning began to fade.
11:20 AM – Tea (and Silence)
Alfred reappeared like a theatrical breeze with tea on a silver tray.
He placed it down without a word, poured two cups, and left.
Batman sipped.
Billy sipped.
Then:
“This isn’t cocoa,” Billy mumbled.
“It’s oolong.”
“…This is your version of fun, isn’t it?”
Batman almost smirked. Almost.
Billy slouched deeper into his hoodie. “Man, I miss coffee.”
11:38 AM – Present Stillness
“I don’t know how to sit still when I’m not forced to,” Billy admitted quietly.
Batman didn’t look at him, but said, “You’re learning.”
“Am I?”
“You’re here.”
Billy considered that.
Then smiled.
“…Yeah. I guess I am.”
They drank tea in silence, bathed in shadows and low computer hums.
No monsters.
No alarms.
No lightning.
Just the echo of quiet thunder resting, for once, in good company.
11:42 AM – The Batcave
The Batcave wasn’t usually this quiet.
Which was why it was weird that Billy Batson and Bruce Wayne were talking — casually, even warmly — when the elevator to the main platform hissed open and the Bat-kids stepped out.
Tim Drake led the way, a tablet in one hand and a file folder in the other, clearly ready to discuss League-aligned intel.
Cassandra Cain trailed behind him, silent as ever, perceptive eyes taking in everything at once.
Stephanie Brown followed with a bag of gas grenades she “borrowed” from an experimental wing and a Red Robin energy bar she probably hadn’t paid for.
They were halfway through the catwalk when they froze.
There, at the center of the Batcave — surrounded by monitors, tactical data feeds, and the faint smell of high-end oolong — sat a teenage boy.
In a red hoodie.
Cross-legged on the Batcomputer platform.
Shoes kicked off.
Cup of tea in hand.
Laughing.
With Batman.
Laughing.
11:43 AM – Bat-Kid Freeze Frame
Tim blinked like a glitching program.
“Uh,” he said, blinking again. “Who is that?”
Cassandra tilted her head, narrowed her eyes. Watching body language. Breathing pattern. Not normal.
Stephanie leaned in with narrowed eyes. “He looks like he belongs here and I hate how true that is.”
Billy turned and spotted them. He grinned.
“Hey!” he called out. “You guys do have group entrances. I was hoping it wasn't just a myth.”
Stephanie raised a hand slowly. “Do we know you?”
Billy turned to Bruce. “They don’t know me?”
“You didn’t introduce yourself,” Bruce replied, not looking up from his screen.
“Well yeah,” Billy said, standing and dusting off his jeans. “I assumed your spooky reputation would do the heavy lifting.”
He offered a handshake toward Tim. “Billy.”
“Tim,” he said warily, taking it. “Uh... how do you know Bruce?”
“Oh, we’re in a weird father-brother-mentor-rival-situation-ship,” Billy said cheerfully.
Stephanie squinted. “That’s not a thing.”
“Tell that to Bruce.”
“I wish I could.”
11:48 AM – The Sit-Down
Billy sat back down on the edge of the platform as the Bat-kids slowly filtered around him, orbiting like satellites that hadn’t decided if he was the sun or a black hole.
Cassandra sat on a railing, chin resting on her hand, watching.
Tim was analyzing. Quietly scanning body heat, posture, voice intonation.
Stephanie sat across from Billy and pointed a finger at him.
“Alright. Red hoodie. Tea. Cozy with Batman. What’s your deal?”
Billy sipped his cup.
“Would you believe I’m just really good at making friends?”
“No.”
“Would you believe I bring snacks?”
“Tempting,” she said.
Billy looked at Bruce. “She’s funny. Can I keep her?”
“No,” Bruce said immediately.
Stephanie beamed. “That’s literally the most human thing you’ve ever said to me.”
11:55 AM – The Mood Shifts
“So what are you doing here?” Tim finally asked, more direct now. “You said you had a feeling?”
“Yeah,” Billy said, the smile softening just a bit. “Woke up and the air felt wrong. Academy’s fine, nobody’s hurt. But I couldn’t sit still. I needed… something.”
He looked around the cave. The shadows. The quiet hum. The cold presence of people who got it.
“Turns out I needed this.”
“You needed… to sit in the Batcave and drink tea?” Stephanie asked.
“Yeah. Weird, right?” Billy said with a small grin. “It’s kind of peaceful in that ‘I could be punched by history at any moment’ sort of way.”
Cassandra finally spoke — just two quiet words:
“Not normal.”
Billy raised his cup. “Cheers to that.”
12:03 PM – Shared Stillness
They sat with him for a while.
Not asking too many questions.
Just letting the silence breathe.
He was magnetic, and they didn’t know why — not yet. But whatever this was… he wasn’t just a visitor.
And even Bruce hadn’t told them to clear out.
That alone was weirder than anything Billy could’ve said.
As the quiet held, Stephanie leaned over to Tim and whispered:
“Okay, new game.”
Tim blinked. “What?”
“Figure out who the hoodie kid *really* is before he reveals it.”
“I’m already on it.”
Cassandra’s whisper came from behind them: “He’s not hiding. You’re just not seeing.”
They turned back. Billy was now reclined fully against the edge of the platform, balancing his empty teacup on his knee, humming an old folk tune.
12:07 PM – Batcave Combat Ring
“Alright,” Stephanie said, cracking her knuckles. “If you’re gonna keep lounging around *our* brooding space, we need to know what you can actually do.”
Billy blinked. “Did you just challenge me to a duel because I sat on your computer platform?”
“Yes,” she said. “Also because I’m curious.”
Tim stepped forward, calm but intrigued. “I’ll spar him.”
Billy tilted his head. “Seriously?”
Tim gave a casual shrug. “You seem like you’ve got something. I want to see what.”
Billy glanced at Bruce.
Batman didn’t even look up from his diagnostics. “Don’t break the platform.”
Billy cracked his knuckles. “Fine. Let’s dance.”
12:11 PM – Sparring Begins
The Batcave’s training mat wasn’t built for egos. It was built for precision.
Tim was fast. Calculated. Polished.
Billy was… casual. Slouching. Grinning. Loose-shouldered.
The moment the spar started, Tim struck with speed and grace, aiming for a controlled takedown.
Billy dodged. Effortlessly.
A backstep. A pivot. A sweep of his leg that barely missed.
Tim narrowed his eyes.
“You’re faster than you look.”
“Most things are,” Billy quipped.
Tim swept low — and Billy jumped just enough to avoid it, twisting midair and landing behind him with a cheeky little *tap* on Tim’s shoulder.
Tag.
12:13 PM – Shift in the Air
Tim adjusted his stance. Less curious now. More focused.
A rapid series of jabs came next — sharp and practiced.
Billy blocked every single one. Not with textbook form, but fluidity. Like he wasn’t resisting the motion — just riding it.
He didn’t counter until Tim’s balance shifted.
Then Billy struck low, hooked a foot, and flipped Tim clean off the mat.
Not hard. Not disrespectfully.
Just… decisively.
Tim hit the mat with a grunt and blinked up at him.
Billy offered a hand.
“You okay?”
Tim took it, eyes narrowed — but impressed.
“You’re trained.”
“I pick things up.”
12:15 PM – Aftermath
Stephanie raised both eyebrows. “Okay, hoodie kid has moves.”
Cassandra gave a faint nod of approval.
Tim dusted himself off. “You’re not just street smart. You’ve had… combat exposure.”
Billy grinned and shrugged. “Let’s say I’ve had some hands-on mentoring. Emphasis on hands.”
Stephanie folded her arms. “Still doesn’t explain how you flipped the third-Robin out of the ring like a sack of oranges.”
“It’s the quiet ones,” Billy said. “We lull you into false security.”
“You’re not quiet.”
“…Emotionally, I am.”
Tim looked him over again, still piecing it together.
“You’re strong. But not arrogant. And you didn’t go for pain.”
Billy held up a finger. “That’s where I draw the line. Sparring is sparring. Hurting people? Only if they ask nicely.”
Cassandra finally spoke: “Good.”
12:22 PM – Sit Down Round Two
They returned to the platform, now with a few more snacks Alfred had “coincidentally” dropped off.
Stephanie offered Billy a protein bar, which he accepted like a gift from royalty.
Cassandra sat at the edge and watched the monitors.
Tim kept sneaking glances at him.
Bruce stayed silent, letting the kids build their own conclusions.
Billy munched and leaned back again, eyes half-closed.
“This is weird,” he said finally.
“What is?” Tim asked.
“I’ve never been in a cave full of weaponized orphans and felt more at peace.”
Stephanie laughed. “That’s the Batcave effect. It ruins your expectations forever.”
Billy grinned. “Yeah… I kinda get it now.”
12:30 PM – A Moment in the Dark
The lights flickered faintly. No alarms. Just a Gotham brownout, stabilized by emergency power.
But in that second of darkened monitors, Billy’s eyes glowed faint gold.
Only Cassandra noticed.
She didn’t say a word.
Just smiled — faint, knowing.
12:32 PM – The Batcave
“Okay,” Stephanie said, perched cross-legged on the railing like a sugar-charged owl, “so you’re fast, weirdly wise, scary chill, and you beat Tim in a spar.”
Billy shrugged, still munching on a protein bar. “What can I say? I’m an enigma wrapped in a red hoodie.”
Tim smirked faintly but didn’t argue. “You’re not wrong.”
Cassandra sat close to the console, eyes occasionally flicking between Billy and the overhead Batcave monitors. She’d started saying less, but something about the way she nodded every few minutes said volumes.
“So what are you doing at the Academy?” Stephanie asked. “You don’t need training. Not really.”
Billy stretched, long and catlike. “Just trying to see if I still fit in somewhere, y’know? If I can learn something I haven’t already picked up the hard way.”
Tim watched him carefully. “You’re not like the other students.”
“No,” Billy agreed, smiling softly. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t belong.”
For once, no one had a retort to that.
12:58 PM – Time to Go
Billy stood, brushing imaginary crumbs off his hoodie, and slid his hands into his pockets. “Well, this has been surprisingly nice. I was half-expecting a grappling hook to the face.”
“That’s a Tuesday,” Stephanie muttered.
“Hey,” Billy said, nodding toward Bruce. “Thanks for letting me… exist in your space today.”
Bruce gave a tiny nod — for him, practically a bear hug.
“Keep listening to the weird feelings,” he said. “They’re usually right.”
Billy grinned. “That’s what the last seven wizards told me.”
Everyone blinked.
“Wait, what?” Tim asked.
“Nothing!” Billy called as he waved, heading toward the elevator. “Totally normal kid thing to say!”
He paused in the doorway. “I’m gonna go see Clark. Tell Damian I said hi, and also that I borrowed one of his capes. It was dramatic and necessary.”
“You what—” Tim began, but the doors had already closed.
1:00 PM – Wayne Manor, Back Lawn
The air outside was crisp — Gotham's brand of gray, where even the wind felt like it had secrets.
Billy stood just beyond the stone steps of the manor’s back entrance, hands deep in his hoodie pockets, boots planted firmly in the wet grass.
Behind him stood Tim, Stephanie, and Cassandra, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. They’d followed him out, pretending to talk about training loadouts… but mostly because they were curious.
“He’s not walking to the road,” Stephanie noted. “Is someone picking him up?”
“He’s too relaxed,” Tim muttered. “Like he’s waiting for something.”
And behind them, quiet and unreadable as ever, stood Bruce.
Billy glanced back over his shoulder.
“You okay with them seeing?” he asked, voice echoing through the courtyard.
Bruce didn’t hesitate.
“They’ll keep your secret.”
Tim blinked. “Wait. Secret?”
“Like… an identity secret?” Stephanie asked. She watched Billy with strange fascination
Cassandra said nothing, but the corner of her mouth turned up faintly.
Billy exhaled, smiled, and turned to face the open sky, with a maniacal glint in his eyes
“Cool.”
He took one step forward, boots scraping the stone path, and then looked upward.
The wind stirred around him.
Then, as loud as he possibly could, he said the word:
“SHAZAM!.”
CRACK-BOOOOM.
A white-hot bolt of lightning tore from the clouds, slamming into him with a sound that shook the ground and echoed off the manor walls.
And when the light faded—
Captain Marvel stood in Billy’s place.
Larger, broader. Golden boots gleaming. Cape fluttering behind him. The lightning bolt on his chest still crackling softly.
The Bat-kids all stared in stunned silence.
Tim’s brain visibly short-circuited.
Stephanie let out a half-laugh, half-gasp. “You’re—what—you’re Captain Marvel?!”
Cassandra gave a satisfied nod.
Billy — now the champion of magic — turned slightly, grinning madly in his towering form.
“Surprise.”
“You were drinking tea with us,” Stephanie whispered, stunned. “In the Batcave. You were drinking tea!”
“It was oolong,” Billy said helpfully.
Tim shook his head. “You threw me across the sparring mat. As a mortal.”
“Technically still mortal,” Billy said with a shrug. “Just… borrowed thunder.”
Bruce stepped forward. Calm. Grounded.
“They’ll protect it,” he said again. This time not just to Billy, but to the others.
“We will,” Cassandra said softly.
Stephanie was still trying to reorient herself. “But you're—like—Superman-level. Why are you in a dorm room?”
Billy floated a few inches off the ground now, spinning slowly toward the horizon.
“Because even gods need electives,” he said with a wink. “Also, the vending machines are great.”
He paused midair, looked down at Bruce.
“I’m heading to see Clark.”
Bruce gave the smallest nod.
And with a final flash of red and gold, Captain Marvel shot into the sky, streaking westward like a comet, trailing thunder behind him.
1:06 PM – Ground Level
Silence.
Then:
“…So,” Tim said, still blinking. “Captain Marvel sleeps on a school-issue mattress?”
Stephanie looked up at the sky. “We were trying to figure out his core classes.”
Cassandra smiled.
And Bruce, walking back toward the manor, said over his shoulder:
“Get used to surprises.”
1:37 PM – Smallville, Kansas
The skies above Smallville were a little too perfect. Not a cloud in sight. The breeze was just cool enough. If Kansas had a default setting for "hopeful," this was it.
Captain Marvel hovered above the Kent farm, arms folded, watching the rows of golden corn roll out like a blessing.
Then came the familiar whoosh and a bright streak of red and blue.
Superman slowed beside him, cape fluttering. He said nothing at first, just gave Billy a look — that quiet, wordless You okay? kind of look.
Billy nodded. “Yeah.”
They dropped gently down to the yard together, the wood of the porch creaking just a little as Superman touched down.
Billy took the landing like someone used to falling from orbit without a scratch.
1:41 PM – Kent Farmhouse
Inside, the house smelled like cinnamon and clean linen — the kind of home that stayed warm, even in winter.
Billy had been here before, but only a handful of times. Not in costume. Not with this much stillness in him.
Clark poured lemonade. He had the glasses already out — of course he did.
“Lois not home?” Billy asked, peeking into the kitchen.
“She’s out with Lana,” Clark said. “Shopping for a church raffle.”
“Of course.”
Clark handed him a glass. “So. You okay?”
Billy leaned against the wall, holding the cold glass with both hands. “Yeah. Just… wanted to be around people who get it.”
“I do,” Clark said. “Most days.”
Billy gave a small smile. “It was a good day. Gotham didn’t bite me.”
Clark chuckled.
And then—
“WHOA!”
A blur of red sneakers skidded into the room.
Jonathan Kent, eleven years old and overflowing with uncontainable enthusiasm, froze in the doorway.
His wide blue eyes locked onto Billy’s adult form.
“Are you—are you Captain Marvel?!”
Billy grinned.
“In the flesh.”
“DAD!” Jon pointed dramatically. “You didn’t tell me Captain Marvel was coming over! That’s, like, a major omission!”
Clark raised an eyebrow. “You had math homework.”
“I would’ve finished it faster if I knew a demigod was showing up!”
Billy knelt down a bit, bringing his eyes closer to Jon’s height.
“You’re Jon, right? I heard you threw a school bus one time.”
Jon puffed out his chest. “It was a van. But yeah.”
Billy extended a hand. Jon smacked it with an enthusiastic high five.
Clark sighed. “No flying in the house.”
“I didn’t even float!”
“You’re vibrating.”
“I’M EXCITED.”
1:54 PM – The Backyard
Now out in the yard, Jon was doing slow laps in the sky above the barn, while Billy and Clark sat in lawn chairs under the shade of a half-repaired solar panel.
Billy leaned back, sipping more lemonade.
“He’s awesome,” Billy said.
Clark nodded. “Yeah. He’s something.”
“You’re a good dad.”
Clark blinked, as if that wasn’t something he heard often.
Billy looked down into his glass. “I never really had one. The Wizard tried, in his own way. But I think he was preparing me for something. Not raising me.”
Clark looked at him with real softness in his eyes.
“You turned out alright.”
Billy smirked. “Took a couple lightning strikes.”
2:07 PM – A Little More Sunlight
Jon eventually landed and collapsed dramatically on the grass beside them.
“Okay,” he said, panting. “I have like twenty-seven questions.”
Billy looked to Clark. “Is this allowed?”
Clark gestured. “Go ahead.”
Jon sat up. “Why don’t you just stay Captain Marvel all the time?”
Billy grinned. “Because I like snacks. And school. And naps on clouds. And being a kid.”
Jon narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “You are a kid?”
Billy held up a finger, as if letting him in on a cosmic secret.
“Shhh.”
Jon nodded solemnly. “Cool. I won’t tell.”
Clark looked between the two of them, amused but thoughtful. “You two have more in common than you realize.”
Jon blinked. “Wait… you think I could be a wizard too?!”
Billy laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink.
"Alright, just to see your reaction" Billy chuckled as set down the glass
"SHAZAM!"
The lightning struck him once more transforming the Champion of Magic, back into the Champion of Procrastination, plain old Billy Batson
Jon's jaw basically dropped to the ground and for the first time since Billy arrived he had nothing to say.
2:08 PM – Kent Farm, Backyard
The sun rolled across the sky like it had nowhere to be.
Billy lounged in a folding lawn chair that definitely wasn't rated for his current weight class. Still, it creaked but didn’t break — like the farm itself accepted him as it accepted thunder and wind: part of the natural order.
Superman — Clark — sat next to him, boots tucked beside the cooler. No cape. Just jeans and a gray T-shirt with the faded symbol of a Metropolis softball team on the chest.
“So…” Billy said, tapping the rim of his lemonade glass. “This is what peace feels like.”
Clark nodded without looking over. “Rare, but real.”
“I could get used to this.”
“That’s the trick. You’re not supposed to.”
Billy raised an eyebrow.
Clark continued, “You can rest. But you don’t stop. You carry the good moments with you, not chase them.”
Billy leaned back and sighed, squinting at the sky. “Was that wisdom or passive-aggressive foreshadowing?”
Clark chuckled. “A little of both.”
A beat passed.
Billy said, “You think I’m doing okay?”
Clark looked over at him.
“You’re showing up. You’re asking questions. You’re still smiling. That’s more than okay.”
Billy smiled. Quietly. Gratefully.
And then the screen door creaked open.
2:11 PM – Lois Lane Arrives
“Clark?” came a familiar voice. “I’m back early — Lana bailed on the second-hand book crawl. Apparently her chickens are plotting something.”
Billy immediately straightened up, trying not to spill lemonade on himself or accidentally fry the chair with residual lightning.
Lois Lane stepped onto the porch with a reusable grocery bag in one hand and sunglasses in the other, pausing mid-step as she noticed her husband’s sunbathing partner.
“Oh! I didn’t know we had company.”
Clark smiled and stood. “Billy dropped in.”
Lois took a beat, eyes scanning the bright red boy.
Then her face broke into a grin.
“Captain Marvel,” she said warmly. “You clean up well for a thunder god.”
Billy stood, not quite blushing but suddenly remembering to mind his posture.
“Uh, hi. Ms. Lane.”
“You know I’m not legally required to interview you just because you’re here, right?”
He laughed nervously. “Good. Because I’m really not ready for a Pulitzer-level interrogation.”
Lois smirked and walked past them, placing the bag down on the outdoor table. “You boys want iced tea or are you doing the superhero-approved lemonade thing all day?”
Clark pointed at Billy. “He finished his third glass.”
“Respectable,” Lois said. “You can stay.”
2:20 PM – Porch Talk
They settled into a three-way rhythm — Billy in the middle, Lois and Clark on either side like some impossibly grounded version of divine parents. No costumes. No battles. Just sun, lemonade, and gentle breeze.
Lois asked about school.
Billy answered honestly — or as honestly as he could while skipping the "Batcave bonding" and "teen ninja stalker club" details.
“You like it?” she asked.
Billy gave a half-nod. “It’s… strange. I’m not sure I fit. But I think I might be useful.”
“That’s never a bad place to start,” she said, and her tone held that same mix of warmth and challenge that made world leaders sweat under questioning.
Clark leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head.
Lois nudged him. “You know he’s better at this whole ‘casual interaction’ thing than you were at his age.”
Clark smiled. “He’s better at most things.”
Billy gave a mock gasp. “Wait — is that a compliment from the Man of Steel?”
Clark raised his glass. “Don’t let it go to your cape.”
2:34 PM – Quiet Moments
Jon reappeared from the barn loft with a chicken on his head.
“Don’t ask,” he said, sitting next to his mom like it was normal.
Billy just raised his lemonade in salute. “You do you, barn boy.”
They all laughed.
The world felt soft in that moment. For once, no alarms. No lightning.
Just a kid from Fawcett City sitting in a porch chair in Smallville, sipping lemonade with the strongest man in the universe and the world’s best journalist — both treating him like he belonged.
And maybe he did.
2:15 PM — Kent Farm Porch
Billy leaned back in the lawn chair, the warmth of the afternoon sun settling comfortably on his shoulders. Clark sat nearby, quiet but present, and Lois hovered between them like a steady anchor, her sharp eyes and easy smile balancing the moment perfectly.
“So,” Lois began, folding her arms, “how’s the Academy treating you? You fitting in?”
Billy gave a thoughtful nod. “It’s… different. Like being the biggest fish in a smaller pond, but the pond is full of other big fish who don’t know I’m swimming there.”
Clark chuckled. “Sounds like you’re doing alright.”
“Yeah,” Billy smiled. “I’m learning. Meeting some interesting people. Trying not to accidentally start a school-wide rumor mill.”
Lois laughed softly. “Well, you’ve got a good support system there. And if you ever need a break, this porch is always open.”
Billy glanced around the peaceful farmstead, inhaling the scent of fresh grass and distant cornfields. “I could get used to this. It’s… quiet.”
Clark smiled warmly. “That’s the hardest part, isn’t it? Finding peace in the noise.”
Billy looked at him, a bit of real gratitude in his eyes. “Thanks, Clark. For this.”
Lois smiled and nudged him gently. “And remember, you don’t have to carry everything on your own.”
Billy nodded, feeling the weight of that simple truth settle into him.
4:00 PM — The Evening Light
Billy glanced up at the fading sun. Shadows were lengthening across the yard. The perfect calm of the afternoon was slipping away with the light.
“I should get back,” Billy said, rising and stretching. “The Academy won’t wait forever.”
Clark stood beside him. “Want a lift back?”
Billy grinned. “Wouldn’t say no.”
Lois waved as they stepped off the porch. “Don’t be a stranger.”
Billy gave a mock salute. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
4:05 PM — Taking Flight
With a final look at the farmhouse, Billy whispered “Shazam,” and lightning flared softly as his form shifted into Captain Marvel’s towering figure.
Clark fell in beside him as they shot upward, cutting through the crisp air, streaking west toward the Academy.
6:32 PM (It took a while)
Billy descended slowly through the swirling mists of the Rock of Eternity, the ancient cavern glowing softly with the echo of forgotten magic. The air shimmered with power, and distant whispers of the wizard’s voice brushed against his ears like an old lullaby.
He touched down lightly on the cool stone floor, the familiar cavern both a refuge and a reminder of the world he carried on his shoulders.
After a brief moment to steady himself, Billy called softly, “Shazam,” and the bolt of lightning flared, carrying him through the magical passage to the Academy.
The world snapped back sharply — sterile halls, fluorescent lights humming quietly, the murmur of students echoing faintly through the corridors.
Billy’s boots echoed as he made his way down the hall toward his dorm room, every step grounding him further from the ethereal sanctuary of the Rock.
Pushing the door open, he stepped inside and dropped heavily onto the bed. The mattress didn’t float like a cloud, but it was soft enough, and the room felt surprisingly normal.
He stretched out, muscles still humming from the day’s adrenaline, and allowed himself to relax.
Just as his eyelids began to droop, the soft buzz of his phone broke the quiet.
"Uggh"
He grabbed it and read the message flashing on the screen:
You have a visitor. An Urgent Visitor.
Billy sighed, the corners of his mouth twitching with amused exhaustion.
Before he could reply, a polite knock sounded — firm but not intrusive.
Billy called out, voice rough but playful: “Look, my day was awesome. I’m wiped out. Go away.”
The knock came again, louder this time, impatient.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Billy muttered, “Fine. But it better be good.”
He swung his legs off the bed and stood, pulling his hoodie over his head as he crossed the room toward the door.
There was another knock — a touch firmer this time. Commanding. Familiar.
Billy paused with his hand on the doorknob. His brow furrowed.
“…Oh no.”
He opened the door slowly, only to find himself face-to-face with Diana of Themyscira, Wonder Woman, standing in the hallway with arms crossed and a look that could shatter siege weapons.
She wasn’t angry, exactly — not yet — but her expression was somewhere between "I’m disappointed" and "I can throw a tank."
Billy blinked, threw up his hands, and said, “Okay, yeah, I probably should’ve expected this.”
“Billy,” she said, voice level.
Billy blinked up at her. “Hey… Diana.”
She tilted her head. “You visited Clark.”
He nodded slowly.
“You visited Bruce.” She said the name as if the words offended her, they probably had
Another slow nod.
“But not me?”
Billy gave her a winning smile, the same one that had worked on evil gods and confused substitute teachers.
“I was gonna! I totally had it on the list!”
She stared at him.
He pointed toward his phone on the bed. “I have a whole notes app labeled ‘Places to Crash if School Implodes’. You’re number three!”
Diana raised one eyebrow. “Three?”
Billy grinned. “I mean, the Batcave has those fancy snacks. But I didn’t forget you! I just lost track of time.”
Her arms stayed folded, but something in her posture softened just a little. “And your next off day?”
“I come visit,” Billy said quickly, hands up like a man surrendering to royalty. “We train, we talk, we have enchanted tea. Maybe a griffin petting zoo?”
Diana’s eyes sparkled slightly at the joke. “Agreed.”
She extended her hand for a warrior’s clasp. Billy took it with reverence — and maybe a little awe. He’d fought monsters and stood against magic, but Diana was a force. She wasn’t lightning like him — she was the mountain it struck.
As they clasped wrists, she said, “You’ve grown. But don’t forget who your family is.”
Billy’s smirk faded into something more sincere. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Down the Hall…
Whispers started like sparks.
“Is that Wonder Woman?”
“No way.”
“She’s talking to Billy Batson?”
“What did he do?”
“Are they… related?”
“Is he in trouble or is this, like, cool trouble?”
Then came the peekers — half a dozen students in pajama pants and robes, pressed against door frames and corners, peeking out like groundhogs.
Kid Flash (Wally West) skidded to a halt mid-jog. “Whoa. Wait. Is that real? Am I dreaming? Do speed naps come with hallucinations now?”
Stitch floated upside-down from the ceiling tiles, a bowl of popcorn in one hand, mouth agape. “Billy, honey, what kind of side quest are you on?”
Tooby, the green lizard kid from 3B, whispered to a nearby techie, “Start a group chat. Call it ‘Amazon Gossip Emergency.’”
Billy glanced sideways. His dorm hallway, normally quiet by 9PM, was now a theatrical audience of awestruck teenagers in socks and face masks.
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Fantastic,” he muttered. “There goes the whole quiet mystery guy vibe.”
Diana turned, finally noticing the hallway parade. She smiled slightly. “They’re curious.”
“They were supposed to be afraid of me,” Billy said, exasperated. “You know. Lone wolf. Stoic hoodie guy. Maybe a tragic backstory vibe?”
Diana placed a hand gently on his shoulder, warm but firm. “They’ll be in wonder.”
Billy stared at her.
She winked.
“I don’t care,” she said sweetly, then turned and walked calmly down the hallway like this happened every Tuesday.
As the Door Closed...
Billy closed the door behind him and slumped back onto his bed like a myth returning to a mortal shell.
Outside, the hallway exploded with whispered conversations, group chats lighting up faster than the school Wi-Fi could handle.
Inside, Billy groaned into his pillow.
“Cool cool cool,” he said into the fabric. “Can’t wait for the memes.”
Then he looked up and felt the day and the love sink into him
“…Totally worth it.”