Chapter Text
Cyborg had known Captain Marvel for a few months, and for the most part, he’d really liked the guy. Up until a few hours ago he’d have said the big red cheese was the nicest, most genuine person you’d ever meet--now though, now he’d come to the inevitable conclusion that Marvel was a conniving, devious little gremlin. A sneaky, underhanded trickster. Truely, he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. An evil genius hiding in plain sight.
This revelation was set in motion a few years before Victor had joined the league…
--
Superman stretched as he exited the zeta tube, heading off to relieve Captain Marvel of monitor duty.
“Hey Marvel.” he called gently. The massive hero swiveled around in his seat to blink owlishly at him before breaking out into a big grin.
“Hey Superman, switch off already?”
“Yup.”
Marvel stood up from the monitors chair, showing no sign that he’d been sitting there for the past few hours. Clark wasn’t too proud to admit that particular trait of Marvel’s didn’t leave him jealous. The Fawcett city hero was never stiff or sore, never tired, never hungry. The computer chimed behind him, signaling the ‘dawn’ of a new day. Marvel blinked, jerking as he turned to eye the computer.
“You good?” Superman asked, already settling down into the chair.
“Oh, uh, yeah, sorry, just, uh,” he smiled sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s my birthday today.”
“Seriously?” Clark twisted around to gape at his secretive teammate. He hadn’t known that, hell, he’d bet dollars to doughnuts that not even Bruce knew that.
“Yep.” Marvel’s eyes skittered away.
“Congrats!” Clark smiled up at him. He’d always enjoyed birthdays, even if he didn’t have much time to celebrate these days, just a quick trip to Smallville for his Ma’s home cooking early in the morning before he had to head into work. Flight had its advantages.
“So, how old are you turning?”
“Ten.”
Clark froze. Marvel’s heart-rate was mostly steady, maybe slightly elevated.
“What?”
“Ten. I’m turning ten today.”
“Y-you’re serious?”
“Mmm-hmm…welp, happy April first.” Marvel offered him a last, cheeky grin before he disappeared down the hall.
“Marvel!” Clark leapt to his feet, half a mind to go after him, but the big red cheese was long gone. Clark gaped after him. Had that really just happened? Well, he supposed Marvel was known to partake in the occasional prank war that cropped up. The kryptonian sat back down with a snort, eyeing the glowing green date in the corner of the computer. It was, in fact, April 1st central time. “Alright, that was pretty good.” he muttered to himself. “Really had me going there for a second.”
--
The next year, Marvel pulled the exact same trick on Barry. Clark was chugging a very large cup of joe in the break room when one red blur went whipping past. He heard the distinct sound of laughter. A split second later another red blur went pelting past, before whipping back around.
“Dude!” Flash gasped, wild-eyed as he clutched at the doorframe. “Dude, you gotta help me catch Marvel!”
“Ok.” Superman picked the paper napkin that had been blown onto his shoulder by the passing speedsters off himself and took another swig of coffee. “Why, though?”
“He’s a frickin’ kid!!” Flash yelled, gesturing wildly. “He just told me he’s eleven!!”
Clark sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Flash. Calm down.”
“No I will not calm down!! What the hell, why are you cool with this?! You and spooky are always gettin’ into it over kid heroes!!”
“Flash. It’s April first.” Clark sighed.
“What.”
“He pulled the same prank on me last year.” Barry gaped at the man of steel for a second before the tension bled from him.
“Ahhgh.” Flash gasped, slumping against the frame and clutching his chest. “Ooh, ohh-ho-ho. Fuck he had me goin’ there for a second.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Language!” Marvel called from across the room. “My poor impressionable ears!” he swooned dramatically against a table.
“Oh screw you!” Flash snapped, half laughing.
--
…Which brought them to today’s events.
It had started off normally enough. Well, as close to normal as life could get for Victor after his accident. He and Marvel had been dispatched to work a string of robberies; Victor was there to work the corrupted security cameras and coordinate with the police since the Captain tended to be fairly passive aggressive with the boys in blue. No one really knew why.
Marvel was there because the artifacts stolen from the museums tended to have mystic importance--or at least rumors about curses.
Things had very rapidly gone off the rails. Victor was pretty sure there was a dragon involved at some point, and he definitely hadn’t known that Marvel could teleport to different realities via doorways--but all of that rather paled in comparison to the fact that Marvel had most definitely turned into a kid just now. Or maybe replaced by? He really hoped it was the later, even if that meant he was stranded in this weird grotto for a while. His brain felt like it was short-circuiting. Half of him was thoroughly convinced there was no way the very skinny child was possibly Captain Marvel. Captain Marvel was seven feet tall, broader than Superman, and fluent in several dead languages. The other half was a machine and very insistent he’d just seen Marvel transform. He scanned the kid again. Finger prints were identical, iris patterns were identical. Empirical evidence showed--Vic’s human brain pulsed with the start of a headache. That, that right there was a child, and Captain Marvel was very much an adult. He wasn’t…
The child in question groaned and sat up. Victor flinched. He was tiny, dirty, maybe ten years old.
“What the hell.” Victor croaked.
The kid blinked over at him.
“Ugh.” the tiny, dirty child sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Who are you?”
“Who do you think I am?” came the kids’ snappish response.
“I…Captain Marvel?” It sounded so wrong when he said it. The kid stared at him, mildly taken aback. Victor couldn’t blame him. He sounded crazy. He probably was crazy. Batman had said magic tended to have adverse effects on machinery right? Maybe he was malfunctioning--
“Fucking New God’s tech.” the kid groused. “Yeah. Yeah. That’s me.”
The haze immediately cleared from Cyborg's mind. That child was Captain Marvel. Captain Marvel was a child.
“What the hell.”
“Gasp. My poor innocent ears.” the kid deadpanned sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Magic is weird.” The kid declared with a dismissive shrug, hauling himself to his feet and dusting off his jeans. “One sec.” he paced a few feet away, tilted his head back and yelled at the sky.
“SHAZAM!”
A flash of lightning nearly blinded Cyborg and there was Marvel, big and bright as ever.
“You good?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at Vic.
“You’re a kid.” Victor croaked.
“Sure am.” Marvel nodded, hands on his hips.
“How--?”
“Wizard did it.”
“Right. Right of course. That…makes about as much sense as anything else that happened today.”
“You look like you need a minute.”
“I think I might.”
About a minute later Cyborg leapt to his feet from where he’d been lying in the grass, contemplating the sheer insanity his life had become.
“You’re a kid.”
“Yup.” Marvel didn’t even look up from where he was sitting in the grass.
“How long--?”
“My entire life. So far at least, I hear I’ll outgrow it eventually.” Marvel kept a straight face for a moment before turning and giving Victor a shit-eating grin.
“Very funny. How long have you been like this?”
“About four years.”
“And the rest of the League is cool with this?”
“Rest of the league doesn’t know.”
“You’re serious?”
“One-hundred-percent.”
“Not even Batman?”
“Last I checked I wasn’t adopted, so no, not even Batman.”
“Bullshit.”
“My ears.” Marvel rolled his eyes, deadpan.
“Urk--I, um--sorry--”
“Dude,” Marvel cocks an eyebrow, “I’m screwing with you. I can curse you out in every language known to man. And then some.”
Cyborg stares at him. This was getting too weird. Marvel was a goody-two-shoes. It was a running joke that the man didn’t even know how to curse. Then again Marvel was also supposed to be an adult.
“How old are you anyway?”
“Twelve. Or, I will be, in a few hours.”
“You have got to be shitting me.”
“They’ll never believe you.” Marvel sing-songed, grinning.
“Why’s that?”
Marvel just grinned at him.
“C’mon, let’s head home.” Marvel gestured as he headed back toward the grove’s garden wall.
Later, back at the watchtower, Cyborg marches up to Batman to give the incident report. Marvel had disappeared to fill out forms specific to magic users. From the rumor mill, Cyborg had gleaned that Marvel in particular had a habit of giving rambling accounts; filling in background details by recounting entire myths and referencing magic rules, laws, and principles nobody could make heads or tails of. Zatanna was always eager to read them afterwards, and liked collecting copies for her personal records. Vic was there mostly to confirm broad details and give an account from a less mystic perspective. Batman, oddly, liked to collect those reports via interview.
He gave a brief summary of events: Marvel examining the crime, flipping through some papers with copies of the other stolen artifacts, apparently realizing what the thieves were actually after, and abruptly dragging Victor through a doorway and apparently into a different dimension full of sheep, apples and what he was pretty sure was a dragon. They’d had to fight off the thieves, and then run away from the very agitated dragon. Marvel had yelled something about an endangered species when Cyborg had tried to blast it.
“--and, uh, one more thing.” he trailed off nervously.
“What is it?” Batman grunted.
“You, uh, you do know he--um--Captain Marvel is, is um, like…twelve…right?”
Batman sighed. Hal--who’d been silently filling out his own report another table over--burst into laughter, marching over to sling his arm around Cyborg’s shoulders.
“Looks like the good Captain’s getting started on his little joke early this year.” the Lantern cackled. “Ah well, I don’t think he was scheduled to be up here tomorrow, probably had to get it out of his system.”
“What?”
“Captain Marvel’s been making that joke for years.” Lantern snickered. “I’m pretty sure he’s just trying to get under spookies skin.” he gestured to the glaring Batman sitting across from them. “You know, since he has no idea who he is.”
Batman’s eyes narrowed further.
“Hmm.”
“I--no--guys, I’m, I’m serious. He--”
“Let me guess,” Hal cut him off, “he told you so himself?”
“I--well, yeah, but--”
“Dude, he’s screwing with you.”
“Uh…” Cyborg gaped as Hal walked away, laughing, turning to stare at Batman.
--
An hour later Cyborg finally left the report room. Marvel was lounging against the wall outside.
“I told you no one was going to believe you.”
“How.” Cyborg demanded, exhausted and frustrated beyond belief.
“Eeh, that’s my secret. Oh by the way, could I bug you for the time?”
“...Oh’200, April…first…”
“Happy Birthday to me.” Marvel grinned, striding off down the hall. Cyborg gaped after him until he disappeared from sight.
“Oh that little--”
--
Superman was enjoying his little stroll along the observation deck, sipping a fresh cup of coffee, minding his own business, only to glance up and see Batman glaring down from the deck into one of the recreation rooms on the watchtower. Batman was standing perfectly still, looming. Clark sighed. It was going to be one of those days.
“Hey Bats.”
“Hmm.”
“You seem broodier than usual. C’mon, spill.”
Batman said nothing, eyes narrowing. Clark glanced over, following his line of sight. Cyborg and Captain Marvel were playing ping-pong.
“I didn’t know we had a ping-pong table.”
“We don’t.”
“Okay…” Clark glanced between him and the due below, taking another sip. “Are you mad about the table or…?”
“Those two are close.” Bruce was still glaring at them. Clark was fairly sure he hadn’t blinked.
“Yeah? Marvel’s always been friendly…?”
“Look at this.” Batman shoved a mission file report under Clark’s nose, eyes still locked on their two junior leaguers below.
Clark flipped through. It was a fairly standard report--well, as standard as they could be when Marvel was involved. Guy was a magnet for the truly bizarre. That being said the only thing out of the ordinary about the report was a single sentence jotted out under Extra Notes.
Captain Marvel is an evil genius.
Clark raised an eyebrow at Batman.
“Ok.”
“Cyborg filed that report.”
“Yes Bats, I know. I am a journalist, I can read.”
“He’s written the same thing in every report on every mission he’s shared with Marvel for the past three months.”
“Ok, so they’ve got an inside joke going on…” he gestured with the files. Batman didn’t so much as twitch. “B. You’re being paranoid again. They’re friends.”
“Hmm.”
Clark groaned at his friend's stubborn pouting.
“Just because you can’t find anything on him, doesn’t mean he’s up to something.”
“Hmm.”
“Ugh.” Superman groaned and sagged, rolling his head on his shoulders, just so Bruce would know his paranoia had firmly crossed out of the ‘eye-roll’ category and into the ‘Question is questioning your sanity’ area. “Fine! If you’re so worried about it, I’ll go talk to them.”
“Hm.”
--
“Hey Cyborg, can I talk to you for a minute?” the mechanized hero blinked around at the man of steel from where he and Marvel were looking over a scattering of books and papers. They did that a lot these days.
“Sure.” He nodded at Superman before turning back to Marvel. “You good to clean up mini-man?”
“Yup.” Marvel replied, already gathering papers into piles. “Thanks for today.”
“Anytime.”
“We still on for burgers later?”
“Yep.”
“Cool. I’ll grab you later.”
“Yep.”
Clark smiled as he led Victor away. He’d been worried about the teenager when he’d first joined up. The former football star had been very withdrawn following his…accident. Marvel, perpetually excited sunshine boy scout that he was, had taken one look at the depressed, sulky teenager, and decided he was friend-shaped. Clark wasn’t sure if it was just the constant genuinely positive presence, or Marvel’s general attitude of ‘I’ve seen weirder’ in regards to truly mind-bending events and people, but either way, it had helped pull Victor Stone out of more than one existential crisis.
“You’re friends with Marvel, right?” Clark asked after they’d found a relatively abandoned chunk of the cafeteria.
“Unfortunately.”
“Uh…”
“He’s a tiny menace.” Cyborg depanned. Superman eyed the young leaguer. Cyborg snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, we’re friends. Why?”
“Well…” Clark pulled out the file and flipped to the Extra Notes.
“Oh, yeah, that. He is absolutely an evil genius. Everyday he tests the limits of my sanity. I’m going to have gray hairs before I’m twenty because of him.”
“...Okay…?” Superman felt the first prickle of confused apprehension tingling at the back of his neck. Cyborg gave him a funny look.
“This…isn’t some weird human resources thing, is it? It’s really just a joke.”
“I figured.” Clark smiled. “Just, please don’t put those in official reports. It’s making Batman twitchy.”
“He should be.” Cyborg nodded. “Marvel is a manipulative mastermind.”
“Uh--”
“You have no idea how much wool he’s been pulling over everyone’s eyes. I can’t even call him out on it. Because he’s not lying.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Cyborg declared, eyes hollow and haunted. “Nobody ever does.”
“You’re…you’re joking, right?”
“No. I’m not.” Cyborg leaned across the table. “And neither is he.”
“...What?”
“Marvel can’t tell a lie to save his life.” Cyborg told him very seriously.
“I know?” Clark was starting to get concerned again. Cyborg wasn’t making any sense. Everyone knew how honest Captain Marvel was.
“What are you guys talking about?”
Clark jumped when Marvel walked up to their table.
“We’re discussing how the younger generation are absolute menaces.” Clark did a double-take at Cyborg’s abrupt topic change.
“Oh you’re one to talk, Mr. Teenager.” Marvel snipped, crossing his arms.
“You are asking for it--you are actively asking for it mini-man. Don’t think I won’t do it.” Cyborg rose from his seat, pointing an accusatory finger at him.
“Oh I know you’d do it.” Marvel grinned back, rocking on his heels. “I also know,” he leaned in, smirking like a cat that got the cream, “that no one will ever believe you.” And with that Marvel whirled on his heel and flew off toward the zeta tubes.
“I know where you live you menace!!” Cyborg yelled after him. Clark could hear Marvel laughing. “Hey man, we done here?” Cyborg asked, turning back to Clark. “I gotta go make sure he’s not going to let the tiger out of the zoo again.”
“I, um, yes. We’re--we’re done here.”
“Great. See you.”
“Tiger?” Clark muttered to himself, thoroughly lost.
--
Two years later, Longshadow, the newest member of the league at a measly eighteen years old, was hanging out with Cyborg and Captain Marvel post mission. It was really cool hanging out with them, even cooler that he’d just finished up a joint mission with them. He told them as much, and immediately lost the thread of the conversation.
“Heck yeah!” Marvel grinned at him over the rim of his hot coco. “Us kids gotta stick together!”
“What?”
“Oh no.” Cyborg moaned, suddenly slumping over the table. “Don’t. Please, I’m begging you.”
“What?”
“Ignore him.” Marvel grinned wider, waving his mechanized friend off. “He’s just being a grumpy old adult.”
“Uh--”
“Us teenagers gotta stick together.”
“...What?”
“Marvel--!” Cyborg started.
“What? I’m fourteen. I am officially a teenager. You can’t tell me I’m not.”
“Excuse me?” Longshadow squeaked. This had to be a joke. Marvel turned his big beaming grin on him.
“Yep! Today’s my birthday. I have left behind the technical teenagerhood of thirteen and become a true teenager.”
“You’re lying. He’s lying right?” Longshadow whipped around, staring at Cyborg with wild eyes.
“No. No, he’s not lying. Today is his birthday.” Cyborg sighed.
“Happy birthday to me.” Marvel sang, draining his cup in one swallow. “And a merry April first to you.” He winked at Longshadow before sweeping away, laughing.
“Every year.” Cyborg groaned. Dropping his head on the table.
“Oh my god.” Longshadow laughed. “Oh my god, he had me for a second. He was totally screwing with me.”
“He is absolutely screwing with you.” Cyborg agreed grumpily. “He’s screwing with everybody. He does that every year, and every year I sit here in agony. You have no idea how bad it is.”
“Ugh.” Longshadow snorted. “That was a pretty good joke, though I can see it getting old.”
“Yeah, a joke.” Cyborg muttered, “One of these days he’ll drop the punchline.”
“Hmm?”
“Nevermind. You wouldn’t believe me.”