Chapter Text
There was something deeply mesmerizing about the way someone’s arms could be so strong and so graceful. Mesmerizing and unfair.
Tim was the opposite of graceful when he danced. He’d been told on more than one occasion that his dance moves resembled an electrocuted chicken, so whenever he took a night out with the Titans he preferred sticking to the bar.
But Kon.
Tim watched from the counter as Kon danced in the middle of the crowded bar, smiles and lights and grace and absolutely beautiful.
Maybe Tim had a tiny bit of a… thing for Kon. But it was totally inconsequential. It had never affected his performance in the field, nor would he let it. Besides, Kon would never like him back. And even if he did, a dingy bar with too-loud music was hardly the place to make a move.
He sat there, staring and nursing a margarita until Cassie slammed into him, slinging an arm around his shoulders and singing along to Party in the U.S.A.
“God, you smell like beer,” Tim informed her with a grimace, which just made her turn her already too-close face more firmly in his direction. Tim gave an exaggerated gag, just to get on her nerves.
“Good thing I’m not the designated driver, then,” Cassie responded with a grin. Tim just rolled his eyes.
Whenever he, Cassie, Kon, and Bart went out, Tim was always the designated driver. He and Cassie were the most responsible on the road, but Cassie liked to party when she could. Bart thought speed limits were a suggestion, and though Kon couldn't get drunk, he had yet to renew his license (flying was easier, in his opinion), so he was also out of the running.
Tim didn’t mind. He didn’t enjoy being drunk and he wasn’t a fan of most alcohol, so he didn’t have any reason to be disappointed with his assignment.
They were in Bludhaven this time, since they’d been hanging around Gotham. Gotham bars were flooded with criminals, traffickers, and drug peddlers, though, so they chose the next city over. Even though Bludhaven wasn’t a much better alternative.
“You should stop staring,” Cassie told him, gesturing to where Tim’s eyes were locked on Kon. Tim immediately looked away.
“I’m not staring.” He took a sip of his drink as Cassie laughed.
Sometimes he regretted making friends.
She gave his head a pat. “Oh, you totally are.” Before Tim could protest again, she went on, “I’m gonna find Bart.” She left, wobbling only slightly on her way.
Tim’s eyes wandered back to Kon.
He wished they hadn’t.
Sidled up at Kon’s side was a blonde girl, batting her eyelashes and feeling up his arms. Tim’s chest tightened as he glanced at Kon and—
Kon was smiling.
No. No, no, no.
Tim watched as Kon lifted a hand to cradle her cheek. Then the blonde leaned in and…
Tim turned around.
His heart beat like a jackhammer inside his chest, pounding against his ribcage in painful bursts.
He knew that Kon was straight. He’d had many girlfriends over the years, even if he had taken a break from dating since the year he was dead. All evidence pointed to Superboy’s heterosexuality.
So why was it so hard to see?
Tim took a couple minutes to breathe deeply, forcing his heart rate to as close to normal as he could. It wasn’t a big deal. Kon could be with whoever he liked. Tim could get over it.
When he turned around, Kon was tongue-deep in her throat.
Tim ordered a shot.
______
An hour later, Bart threw up and they decided it was time to head out.
Cassie found Tim right after his fourth shot, giving the glasses a suspicious look before she told him about Bart. Tim nodded and stood up, telling her to wait by the car with Bart while he went to find Kon.
Kon hadn’t moved much from his post with the blonde, who was now, thankfully, gone. Tim blinked a couple times to get over the dizziness, then slowly walked over.
“We need to go,” Tim shouted over the music. He crossed his arms, irrationally self-conscious when Kon looked him over.
“Have you been drinking?” Kon asked incredulously.
Turning toward the door, Tim lied, “No.” Kon scoffed.
Cold air hit Tim’s face as he stepped out of the bar. Kon caught up with him and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“So, can I get an explanation for the early escape?”
“Bart’s sick.”
They found the car—Tim’s prized possession, red and gorgeous and protected by a million safety measures. Cassie sat in the back with a sleeping Bart. Tim hopped into the driver’s seat and Cassie tossed him the keys.
“Are we going to your apartment?” Kon asked as he slid into the passenger’s side. He turned around to ensure that Bart and Cassie were buckled.
Tim turned the ignition and nodded. He didn’t necessarily want to take care of two inebriated friends while he was tipsy himself, but Bruce would never let him out of his sight again if they came to the Manor drunk.
Before Tim backed out of the parking lot, Kon placed a warm hand on his shoulder. “Hold on, are you sure you should drive?” His brows were furrowed in subtle concern.
Tim bristled. “Uh, yeah? It’s my car.”
“You shouldn’t drive drunk.”
Tim pursed his lips and looked forward, putting the car into reverse. “I’m not,” he snapped. Kon raised his hands in a placating gesture.
He moved the car out and turned onto the road, frustration licking at the forefront of his thoughts. It wasn’t like he was Bart or Cassie. Maybe he’d taken a few shots, but he was a good enough driver to not let it affect his roadside manner. He was a spectacular driver.
Kon didn’t drive often, and he didn’t even have a valid license. Tim was the only viable choice, and if Kon could stop second-guessing his every move—
Tim took a deep breath. He’d always had a harder time keeping his emotions at bay after drinking, and it was as annoying as it was inconvenient. He just needed to focus on getting to his apartment. He could make it an hour.
The car was silent after that, save for Bart’s disjointed snores and the slight humming Kon did under his breath. Tim always liked listening to Kon’s singing, whether it was quietly in the Tower’s kitchen in the early hours of the morning or loud and chaotic during a Disney movie night.
He wished Kon would turn on the radio or Spotify or something and sing along with it. It’d be a nice soundtrack on their way back.
“So, how was everyone’s night?” Cassie asked from the back seat.
Tim shrugged. It’d been fine early on, but then he’d seen Kon with that girl—
“Tim!” Kon shouted suddenly. Tim whipped his head around. “No, Tim—god, look at the road!” Tim turned forward again. “Tim, you just ran a red light!”
Tim blinked, trying to remember. He hadn’t been paying attention to that. “Oh,” he said, then cleared his throat. “It’s alright. I can pay the fine.”
Kon looked like he wanted to say something, but he let the matter drop. Cassie kicked the back of his seat, offended that he hadn’t answered the question.
“C’mooon,” she whined. “I saw you with that girl.” Tim’s grip on the wheel tightened. “How was she?”
Kon just sighed and gave a half-hearted shrug. “She was nice, I guess.”
“Was she pretty?”
“Yeah, she was pretty.” Tim’s jaw was clenched so tightly he was vaguely worried he’d break a tooth. Kon gave him a weird look. “Tim, are you sure you’re okay—”
Tim underestimated a turn and the car hopped the curb, sending everyone what felt like a foot in the air. Cassie let out a short scream and Bart startled awake. Tim had to take three measured breaths to calm his heart down.
“What the fuck was that?” Cassie demanded. Tim looked in the rearview mirror to see her wide eyes and Bart’s concerned and surprised expression.
“Tim’s driving drunk,” Kon said, now glaring at Tim. Tim narrowed his eyes back, still watching the road.
“It’s fine,” he insisted, making sure to keep a clear eye out for everything now, unwilling to make a third mistake. “I’ll be careful.”
“You can’t be careful if your mind is wonky and unclear!”
“I’ve driven the batmobile in worse conditions!”
“Tim, just let me switch out with you!”
“We’re not—”
Behind them, a siren started wailing. Tim glanced behind them to find a police car trailing them, red and blue light dancing in his vision.
Shit.
Tim pulled into the parking lot of a nearby diner and parked, the cop car right behind him. Cassie shouted at him as he dropped his head on the steering wheel, horn honking.
“See?” Kon said, head in his hands and an annoying mix of smug and resigned. “This is what you get when you drive drunk.”
“‘M not drunk,” Tim mumbled, still unwilling to let Kon win.
He reluctantly lifted his head when he heard someone tap his window and exhaled, rolling it down.
He wished he hadn’t.
On the outside of the car was Dick, looking both surprised and amused to find Tim at the wheel. Tim blanched, mouth opening in shock.
Dick shook his head, then cleared his throat. “Tim, I’m going to need you to come out of the car.”
Someone just kill him now. Tim groaned but complied, stepping back out into the cold and mourning the loss of the car’s heating. Goosebumps rose on his arms and he crossed them, trying to conserve as much body heat as he could.
Dick was in his Bludhaven PD uniform, hair mussed up from running his hand through it too many times. Dick looked him up and down, then looked past him into the car. “Were you out with your friends?”
Tim didn’t care enough to respond, and instead just scowled. Dick shrugged.
Honestly, Tim was debating the morals of just running away from the conversation. It wasn’t enough to get pulled over, but the cop just had to be his brother. Dick was going to give him the lecture of a lifetime. Tim would rather put that off for another day.
“Why are you working this late?” He knew Dick would pick up his actual question: Shouldn’t Nightwing be out flying?
Dick gave a tired shrug. “I owe someone a favor. Besides, it’s a quiet night.” He paused. “Well, it was.” Damn it. “What’s going on with you?”
Tim held himself tighter. “It—I’m fine. We were at a bar and I guess we got carried away.”
Dick looked suspicious. Tim fought a groan. He really wasn’t great at lying to his older brother, especially after a drink.
“Can I go now?” Tim tried, doing his best to look tired. He narrowed his eyes when Dick shook his head. “Why not?”
“Time to breathalyze, Timmy.”
Tim blinked. For the first time, he noticed the device wrapped in Dick’s hand. Dick wasn’t really going to… was he?
“...Are you serious?”
“Blow into the stick.”
Tim stared as he held out the breathalyzer with an expectant look. He heard the sounds of laughter from the car behind him. “First off, never say that again.” Dick smiled. “Second, no.”
Dick’s amused expression shifted to something more serious. “Tim, it’s the law.”
Tim threw his arms up. “Bruce is a billionaire! He’s practically above it!”
“That doesn’t change the fact that you’re handling a vehicle while clearly drunk.”
“I’m not!”
When Dick just raised an eyebrow, Tim relented. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? It’s been a shitty night. I won’t do it again.” And really, he wouldn’t! It was a one-time mistake.
“I’m sorry, too, Tim,” Dick said with a disapproving look. “But you could’ve gotten yourself or one of your friends hurt—could’ve hurt a civilian. I know Bruce would agree with me.” At Tim’s continued glower, he sighed. “Listen. I’m not stupid, okay? It would be a huge mess if you got arrested for this. That’s why I’m not taking you in.”
“Thank you—”
“But,” Dick continued, holding up a finger, “you’re still my little brother. I’m not letting you off the hook.” He gestured to something behind Tim. “Let Kon drive the rest of the way back.”
Tim turned around and ended up face to face with the exact last person he wanted to see right now. Kon gave Dick a tired nod and Tim a pointed look while Tim’s hands curled into angry fists by his sides. “He’s not supposed to drive either! He hasn’t renewed—”
“He’ll still be a better driver than you.” Dick’s face and tone were stern enough that Tim was cowed.
It just wasn’t fair. Tim’s face reddened with his frustration as he stomped back to the passenger side of his own car and sat down heavily, crossing his arms at the audacity of everyone he knew.
The night had gone to complete shit, and it was all because of Kon and that stupid blonde girl. If he hadn’t kissed her, none of this would’ve ever happened, and Tim would still be pining in semi-hopeful silence.
But now he knew for sure, without any semblance of a doubt, that Kon didn’t like him back.
It hurt more than he wanted to admit.
“Hey, whoa!” Kon said after he got into the driver’s seat, looking at Tim with concern. “What’s wrong?”
Tim suddenly became aware of the streaks of wet running down his cheeks and realized he’d started crying. God, this was exactly why he didn’t drink. He sniffed and said, “Nothing.”
“Bullshit.” Kon took Tim’s face in his hands and wiped away a couple tears with the pad of his thumb. “Why’d you even drink today? I thought you didn’t like to.”
Despite himself, Tim leaned into Kon’s touch. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” he murmured, closing his eyes. He hadn’t realized until now how tired he was, but it made sense given that it was past midnight. The adrenaline from earlier was wearing off, leaving him exhausted and thoroughly wrung out.
He heard Kon exhale, and then the warmth of the super’s calloused hand pulled away. Tim tried not to let it show on his face how disappointed that made him. Kon shifted into reverse and started backing out.
“Why’s Cassie bein’ so quiet?” Tim asked after a few moments of tense silence. He hadn’t heard her say a thing since he got back to the car.
“I gave her my phone. She’s playing Block Blast.” Sure enough, when Tim looked back, Cassie’s face was illuminated by blue light and twisted in focus as she worked on the game. “Don’t beat my high score!” Kon called back to her.
“I already did,” Cassie said back with a smirk. Kon cursed under his breath. “It took, like, five seconds.”
Kon rolled his eyes at her. “Okay, okay,” he said as Tim snickered. “Geez, don’t have to rub it in.”
Tim hummed. “You’re not very good at video games.”
Kon scoffed, playing up the mock offense. “I’ll have you know, I’m great at video games. Or have you forgotten all the times I beat you at Wii Sports Resort?”
“That game is rigged!” Tim crossed his arms. He hated Sports Resort. It was absolutely nothing like actual sports! And the controllers were old, so it was always off in its timing. It was not an accurate representation of his skills.
Kon barked out a laugh. “What about Just Dance?”
“That barely even counts—”
“It’s digital and it’s a game, I think it meets the criteria.”
Tim sulked. “Well, you’re bad at phone games.”
Kon smiled in Tim’s peripheral. “Yeah, we can agree on that.”
Tim glanced over at Kon. His face was illuminated in the dark by the different streetlamps and stoplights on the street—red, green, yellow. He looked like he could be in an action movie.
Tim bit his lip. The alcohol was making his mind sloppy and warm, and of course Kon was at its forefront. He couldn’t tuck those traitorous thoughts into a box in the back of his mind like he usually did, and it was driving him crazy.
Because Kon wasn’t like anyone he’d dated before.
Bernard was the quiet and nerdy type, brought out of his shell by Tim and constantly spewing conspiracy theories that made Tim roll his eyes fondly. Bernard had been nice, but Tim couldn’t grow to love him.
Steph had thrown a brick at Tim when they first met, but after that they got along like fire to fuel. She’d brought out the rebellious, risk-taking side in Tim, and stayed by his side when times got rough. But they had eventually learned that they worked better as friends.
Kon, though…
Kon was the crow of a rooster in the morning, jarring and necessary at the same time. He was the way the trees danced gracefully in the wind, always adapting to different circumstances and learning how to suit the needs of those around him. Kon never failed to lend a listening ear when Tim needed to rant, or a shoulder for his surreptitious tears. Kon could bounce from high to low like it was ping-pong. He teased Tim every chance he got, but at the same time, he regarded Tim with respect and kindness. Even when Tim did something horribly wrong.
Kon was confusing and inspiring and fascinating. Kon made Tim want to be better, as cliche as it was. Tim hadn’t felt this way about anyone before.
Tim was pretty sure he was in love with his best friend.
Tears of frustration burned Tim’s eyes once more, and he furiously tried to scrub them away. He’d never liked crying in front of people, especially over silly things like this. His parents used to tell him it was unbecoming—big boys don’t cry, Timothy, he could remember Janet saying.
He felt a warm hand gently peel one of his wrists away from his splotchy face. “Don’t hurt yourself, Tim,” Kon said, glancing quickly at Tim before turning his eyes back to the road.
Tim sniffed, but didn’t say anything.
Why did Kon have to be so nice?
It would be so easy to forget about him if he was a conceited asshole. But instead, he was the sun personified.
Even after Kon kissed a girl, Tim couldn’t get over him.