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His vice was one that could easily be held between two fingers. It could be ignited and set into motion with the click of a lighter and a cupped hand surrounding the flame. Cigarettes were a recurring item in his life. His father used to step out during light arguments with his mother for a ‘smoke break’ and return with an apologetic look. The old man at the corner store with kind eyes and a crooked smile often held a cigarette in his hand or patted the pack of cigarettes in his pocket as a nervous fidget. The pack of kids that first taught Billy to trust his instincts, who taught him when to run and hide, stole packs out of the back pockets and bags of adults. When Billy would shift his feet or look longingly at restaurants and at the people who were eating while walking by, they would offer out a clenched hand holding a cigarette. They told him it’ll ease his appetite.
His hunger was a steady and persistent strum in his stomach. The cigarettes only helped a small amount. But, Billy liked the weight in his hands and the warmth they brought to him during cold nights and winter. He liked the ever so slight ease of his nerves and the calm that caused him to drop his shoulders and relax his face.
After his introduction to the street life in Fawcett, he hadn’t been able to drop the bad habit. When things were rough? Smoke break. When he couldn’t afford food? Smoke break. When a weird magical wizard decided he was best fit to be an adult superhero?
… Smoke break. A long one.
The part of him that strived to only do good felt guilty every time he swayed back to his habit. Being Captain Marvel: ‘The Mightiest Mortal’ has maybe put pressure on his already iffy judgement. Anything that wasn’t perfect felt wrong.
So, he tried to keep the craving for just Billy Batson. Captain Marvel was a separate being— a man who was admirable, strong, and level headed. Someone who helped others. Someone who didn’t have bad habits like Billy Batson did. Someone who did not have hunger and had too much courage to fret over anxiety.
But, sometimes, he needed a break. Sometimes he remembered that Billy Batson was Captain Marvel. That they shared all of their traits, both good and bad. He’d remember that addiction is addiction
.
He would never blame the young kids he saved who smoked. So, he let himself have his smoke breaks occasionally. When he really needed them. Technically, there’s no magic policy against smoking when he’s Shazam-ed up. Not really.
He’s the second to last shift for monitor duty at the Watchtower. It’s cold and the breeze caresses his face and brushes back his hair. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back. He imagines that his fingertips are numb and red like they would be if he were still human. He imagines his mom singing him a soothing lullaby when things were wrong. He remembers a time where cigarettes were associated with C.C Batson, his father. His dad. He remembers hating the smell of smoke that lingered on him when he leaned in for a hug. He wonders briefly if he’d be disappointed in Billy, if he could see him now. He wonders if life would be as calm as his mom’s lullaby made it feel if she were alive today.
His eyes flutter open and he’s not surprised to find tears clouding his eyes and his last pack dented in his hand. He lets out an airy laugh and smiles at the stars outside. He won’t know what they’d think now. He just knows they would want him to do good. So he will do his very best.
He lights a cigarette and waits a minute before taking a drag of it. He keeps an eye out for any pop-ups on the Watchtower system and stays alert. He carries the laptop in his left hand and holds the cigarette with the other while making his way to the lounge room. He sits lazily at the table. Nothing has shown up all night, and his shift only has about ten minutes left. His head tilts to rest on his hand and he sighs. Sleep tonight, however uncomfortable, will be well earned. He’s exhausted.
The door to his left slips open quietly. He straightens his posture and turns his head to see who’s walked in.
Batman is standing calmly beside the lounge room’s round table. Batman, being who he is, is a very hard man to read. Sometimes you will get a glimpse of the slight curl up or down of his lip, or the slight downturn his shoulders sag when he’s tired. Today is no different than usual—the piercing eyes in his cowl track Billy with an unidentifiable emotion. Billy is just about to say something before Batman beats him to it.
“Captain Marvel,” He addresses softly,
“We don’t usually allow smoking in the Watchtower.”
The tone in which he says it is almost amused, maybe curious. He isn’t accusing Marvel of anything, or angry like he had expected. If anything, he seems more soft and calm compared to normal.
Billy had almost forgotten the cigarette in his hand, as he’d been smoking it mindlessly. Awareness floods through him and he jolts to put it out. What impression was he giving off like this? Shame starts to swallow him whole.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Batman, sir. It won’t- it won’t happen again. Promise.”
His foot begins to tap anxiously to no specific rhythm and his hand comes up to scratch the back of his neck. Gods, he felt like a total wreck.
“No worries. I wasn’t aware you smoked,”
Batman poses the statement as a question and tilts his head ever so slightly. Billy has always admired Batman’s ability to investigate and get to the root of things, but he can admit it’s absolutely terrifying when it’s directed towards you. Really, this is just casual conversation, but some part of Billy feels like his brain is being picked and prodded anyway.
“Uh,” Billy replies intelligently,
He wears a crooked, anxious smile, and the stress that has built up these past few months feels as if it’s about to all come out at once.
“I try not to do it too much, you know? Especially not as Captain Marvel. But, uh, sometimes I just…”
His smile drops and he turns away from Batman clumsily.
“Need a break.” He finishes lamely.
Batman seems to consider this as he sits down across from him. His hands clasp each other and rest between his legs. It’s weird, to see The Batman so up and close and looking so normal. It’s weird just to think that Batman could look casual or sit in any way that is less than perfect. Logically, he knows Batman is human, and that all humans are flawed and struggle. But, sometimes it feels a little impossible.
“I understand. Sometimes even heroes need a break. I know this may be.. unprompted. But, we are always here for you, Captain.” He says sincerely.
“It’s taken me years to be able to open up around the League. I understand it can be difficult.”
Billy pauses briefly. Batman was giving him emotional advice. The Batman!
He smiles genuinely and turns to look back at him.
“Thank you, Batman. I really appreciate your advice, sir.”
Despite all beliefs the public has about Batman, Billy knows he is kind. In the almost 5 years he’s spent working with him, he is sure of it. Batman is passionate, driven, and caring. He’s just not very good at showing it. Over time, Billy’s begun to enjoy his presence. It’s comforting to have him around, as weird as that may be.
“Of course.” Batman replies with a firm nod, and the slightest fond smile on his face.