Lois Lane was a wonderful woman, Raven decided-  the moment the sparky woman beckoned them inside with a chirpy, "Hey kids!" And sharp glare to her husband.

There was a Damian-like sharpness to her aura that sparked an unprecedented fondness in the demoness- pressing a hand to her chest, she wondered at the sensation that had taken hold therein. Raven wondered at its resemblance to her affection for Starfire: perhaps, Raven considered, she had major mummy problems as well as daddy issues.

Passing a sceptical glance to her boyfriend (which he returned in equal measure) Raven stepped through the apartment door, following a skittish Conner and fumbling Billy.

She'd been able to sense the godly magic on Captain Marvel the moment she'd set eyes on him. Every fibre of that body was of magical construction: not the magic of nature that comprises all beings, not a simple perception filter; the body itself was created of carefully honed godly magic (no mere mortal concoction). His aura had baffled her, momentarily, before she was able to identify the powers of different entities that comprised the great Shazam (Zeus, Hercules, Solomon and so forth).

The boy that had emerged, once they had melded back in to society with the civilian population, had been anticipated, but it was still a challenge wrapping her head around the two bodies being the same person: that the adult hero was also the scrawny teenager.

She chastised herself. An empath should know better than to conflate the physical with the spiritual, she reasoned.

Accepting Lois' general invitation to 'relax, take a seat', Raven perched herself on the end of one of the sofas, tentatively moving a TV remote on to the coffee table directly in front. Shuffling back on the couch, Raven pushed her fingers in to the spongy material, watching the slender digits sink. The witch sighed, all-but collapsing on the green pillowed sofa, eyes trailing over the mish-mash of grand swirling vines and faded flowers that comprised its pattern.

Chuckling, Lois leaned against the armrest besides her, "I know right- they're so comfortable." She slapped the back of the couch, "Got these babies third hand from a friend of a friend. I'm telling you, you'll never sit on anything as soft." She winked at the demoness.

After thanking Mr Kent for giving him a glass of orange juice, Billy complimented, "They're lovely couches Ma'am." Acutely aware of Damian edging away from him.

Billy frowned, momentarily hurt until he realised that Damian was only moving closer to his girlfriend. Couples, ugh, so gross. His family, a red hoodie, and some orange juice was all he needed (so he kept telling himself).

Now that he was sitting there, clutching his smooth orange juice with those two next to him, Billy regretted agreeing to Clark's offer of popping over to his place for a while- 'just to chillax and maybe give Bruce a break' he'd said. Besides the fact that it was so Clark Kent if him to say "chillax", Billy suspected Clark was playing playing matchmaker, but in a friendship way rather than romantically, for Conner.

The Wisdom of Solomon provided Billy with not only some foresight in to his opponents attacks, but also a little insight in to the unspoken reasonings of people. Billy could tell that Clark was struggling to figure out where he stood with Conner.
It was so obvious.

Billy's hand tightened around the glass, threatening to close and close until it would shatter.
Staring in to the still orange depths, his mind, for a moment, was clouded by anger. Conner was Clark's son- half of his DNA: Clark had a responsibility towards him, that was his child for God's sake- even if Conner hadn't been planned.

Billy sipped from his glass. He realised that perhaps he was projecting...just a teeny weeny tiny little bit....but it was hard not to.

He inhaled sharply and the citrusy liquid burning in his throat and catching in his nose before he eventually coughed the soreness away. A stupid move with painful consequences.

"You need some help?" Conner asked, unsure of how he would actually help a person who was choking.

Holding a hand to his burning nose, Billy pointed in the vague direction of the table, hacking, "cough....tiss...ue...cough...please-"

A purple shimmer encased the tissue box, Raven's hand laid palm up in front of her. She flicked an impassive finger and the cardboard box floated to Billy's side.

"Ah so you're the demon that stole the little Wayne's heart." Lois said, nudging her husband.

"Aren't they just adorable?" She teased, fake-whispering.

Damian and Raven twisted their torsos to face her.

At the same time, they spoke:

"That would be me, yes."

"TT. What business is it of yours?"

Raven raised an eyebrow at her boyfriend, lips itching towards a smile- gosh that was so Damian. He brooded in silent frustration at the sharing of his private business, eyes narrowed.

"Relax relax Bruce Junior," Lois rolled her eyes with a laugh, "just a little marital gossip." She linked her and Clark's arms.

Unapologetically her husband apologised, "Sorry Damian."

"Don't worry," Raven answered for him, "it's not exactly a secret."

Now that they'd breached the topic, Lois put herself at liberty to enter reporter-mode. Midnight strands tucked behind her ear, Lois sat besides Conner, watching the young couple intimately (searching for the little physical tells).

"So...how'd it come about? Don't get me wrong, but you're not exactly Casanova." She smiled at Damian, cocking her head. "I mean you're both Titans so was it at the Tower or...?"

Conner had to admit, it was mildly terrifying seeing the woman herself in action. Like a shark sniffing for blood in water; or for the real tea.

"Ease up honey, we're not at the office for a few more hours yet." Clark chuckled, pressing a kiss to his wife's cheek. Conner's heart missed a beat that he was certain Clark picked up on: they were the perfect married couple, weren't they?- so in love, so content. He could picture them with their own little one, raising a child with all their affection and understanding.

A fair majority of him lamented that it wouldn't be him.

Conner looked to the floor for fear of looking at the pair too longingly. It was bad enough that Raven could probably tell what he was feeling.

As the demoness and her boyfriend played the tactical game of give-just-enough-but-not-too-much-information, Conner listened wit growing concern.

Raven and Damian had apparently just clicked. They had so much in common (mostly the trauma, as Damian commented, voice dripping with acid only neutralised by a warm peck on the cheek from his girlfriend) and the right circumstances for a relationship to bloom.

So was that what it took?- Kon wondered at the mysteries of love.

Things in common and the right circumstances.

What if there wasn't enough in common? Or if circumstances changed? Or if there weren't the right circumstances at all to begin with?

Too many variables!- how did a person know they'd found the right one for them?

"Are you alright Conner?" The quiet and careful words froze him in place.

Raven peered past her boyfriend to look at him in earnest, trying to pinpoint the exact nature of his disturbed aura.

Pink lips and purple eyes. They mesmerised Conner and made numb his tongue. Finally he gained the sense to answer, "No I'm fine." More of a squeak than an answer.
Damian's state did no more to settle his nerves, chilling the length of his spine with their impassiveness: simply jade and uncaring,

Solely listening in on Lois's unintentional interview, Billy considered the pair.
Raven and Damian were unified in vibes. Seriously cool vibes. With the whole co-ordinating outfits as well, they really were on point with the dark, badass aesthetic.

Fleetingly glancing at the girl in the purple jacket, Billy wondered if she could sense what he was thinking. Raven was some sort of sympathy...sympath?...empath?... he couldn't remember the word. Something magic-y like that.

It was hard to miss the gem held to the middle of her forehead by some supernatural adhesive, it seemed to catch the light wherever she was- swathed in shadows or basking under the light. Her dad was apparently trapped in there- a huge ugly demon that the Justice League couldn't even dent- perched above the dainty purple brows of a teenage witch.

Was she a witch? Billy wasn't exactly sure. He wasn't great with anything magical: that he could take down intergalactic bad guys with his powers was enough for him to know. She was born with her powers (presuming she got them from her dad being basically the devil) so did that make her a warlock? Or was that something else?

It made his brain fuzzy, puzzling over the possibilities, so Billy contented himself with sipping away at his orange juice, listening to Lois's moving the dialogue on to offers for what they might do.

"You kids can order whatever you like- Chinese, Mexican, whatever. Watch some TV if you want." She flicked absently through some channels, leaving it on some indiscernable sit-com then lowering the volume. Jokingly punching her husband's arm, she said, "I saw the footage from Tijuana- almost flew out myself for live coverage- you've had quite the evening."

Lois pushed off of the sofa, "It's important to relax when you're not beating the shi-sorry- crap out of age old gods."

Conner nodded, eyes wandering to the TV screen. He pulled off his jacket, finding no need for it in the warm living room. At Lois' offer of, "Let me hang that up for you." Kon jumped up, hooking it on to the empty place on the coat rack that it normally occupied (when he stayed over). The boy sat back down, having completed the task within the matter of a few milliseconds.

An eyebrow hinting at the desire to lift itself, Damian subdued the inclination. He had recognised that sentiment all too well in Conner's wide-eyed stare and itching, fidgeting hands- in the all-too polite manner in which Conner sat upon the sofa. The way he looked as though he'd been contemplating the moral acceptability of removing his jacket before finally pulling the darned thing off.

The desire to cause as least trouble as possible. To not be a burden.

Forcibly lifting his mind from that potential whirlpool, Damian was relieved to hear Conner's softly spoken, "I could do with something to eat."

An increasingly easy conversation ended with the unanimous agreement to order a Chinese and Damian's head resting comfortable against Raven's. Billy had moved to the sofa opposite, sitting between Conner and Mr Kent, rolled burrito-style in an orange blanket, eyelids heavy.

Maybe...just maybe, it was nearing his bedtime.

Mmm, that does seem nice. Anubis commented, seeing Billy's eyes shut for an extended period. Today has been an interesting one, but I think a little sleep would do us the world of good.

Anubis, Damian mentally rolled his eyes, you lack a corporeal form to be able to be tired.

Ah now, see, I feel your fatigue. It is my own. So what I said still stands Mr SmartyPants- you know, I head Billy saying that a few minutes ago..."SmartyPants"... what a fun phrase!

Noticing the way Damian's eyes moved as if he were conversing without moving his mouth, Raven shook her head with a smile. Anubis again. She glanced up at him, stifling a yawn.

Apparently done with the god, Damian sighed, muttering to her, "How many thousands of years he's been alive...and Anubis still managed to be marvelled by the smallest of trifles." He buried his head in her shoulder, far too tired to consider propriety, and tapped his fingers lazily on his knee.

"I think it's nice." She murmured, brushing her nose with a heavy hand. Sleep threatened to draw her in: hook, line, and sinker.
Come to think of it, as she blearily looked around the room through half-opened eyes, sleep seemed to be casting  its mist over them all. At least she had a comfy arm to rest against.

Lois strolled in from the bedroom, slippers squeaking, clutching a bank card and her phone: to place the order, Raven realised.

Her head was gently lifted by a calloused hand. Raven sat up, rubbing her eyes as Damian shook off slumber's sly grip. From the pocket of his jumper, her ever useful boyfriend procured a wallet- from which eschewed a bank card of his own, one so shiny and crisp it screamed of wealth.

Raven, hugging a pillow to her chest and resting her chin atop it, ignored the smug smile he shot at her as he replaced the wallet in his pocket.

"TT." He stood, card clutched between two fingers. "I'll pay Lois." It didn't feel right to him, calling her by her first name. The use of titles was fundamental in his raising. But what would he call her, Damian considered. He didn't know if she'd taken her husband's surname or not. Ms Lane or Mrs Kent? Surely not Ma'am- he wasn't a country bumpkin like Clark to be calling people 'ma'am'.

Considering he had no problem referring to the Kryptonian by his first name, Lois shouldn't have been an issue- right?

You overthink Damian. Chillax.

Anubis. For all that is holy in this world, never use that word again. Please.

"Oh no way Damian. This is on us-you're our guests here." She brushed him off, heart warming to the boy all the same.

Luckily for him, Damian held just the trick up his sleeve.

He waved the card in front of him with a smirk, "It's my father's."

Lois stowed her card directly in the pocket of her leggings. Bruce Wayne would be paying tonight.

A.N:

Woopsie...maybe another little filler chapter...but hey, at least it was kind of cute? Right? We need to give recognition to some mundane moments, don't we?

I personally love Lois Lane, she's a pretty fab character in my opinion. Can't wait to stick her in a room with Selena and Diana ;)
What are your ops on her?- I know lots of people for some reason aren't keen on her and I'm quite interested to know why.

Anyways, I've kept you long enough my darlings- off with you! Shoo shoo!

-Bats <3