Chapter Text
From then on, Kon awoke in small bursts, drifting in and out of consciousness until the world was a haze of not-real-too-real. He wasn’t certain how long had passed; the curtains were drawn tight over the windows and even if they weren’t, Gotham’s ever-present haze would have almost definitely blocked out the sun. Twice, he awoke to Tim sitting by his bedside. The final time he awoke, he found himself alone, only accompanied by the flickering of a candle on his bedside table.
The house was quiet, much more so than he would have expected. Surely Tim didn’t live alone out here in the woods? He pushed the thought aside until a later time in favor of greedily drinking the glass of water left on his bedside table. Once his throat no longer felt like sandpaper, he pulled himself up, wincing as the stitches in his chest pulled.
His wound ached, an entirely new sensation to the Kryptonian. Kon tired not to think about how much the pain scared him. The kryptonite had been removed (or so he assumed), surely his healing factor should have kicked in.
Luckily, Kon was saved from spiraling further by the opening notes of a song drifting in from the hall. Something orchestral, nothing Kon could recognize. Stumbling out of bed was harder than anticipated, but after taking a moment to ensure his legs weren’t about to give out, Kon dragged himself to the doorway.
The hallway that stretched out before him was better lit than his room, at least. Candelabras with open flames were mounted up and down each wall, illuminating closed shutters placed evenly between them. They were all different sizes and colors, and were strangely weather-worn, as if exposed to the elements rather than the moderate indoor air. Kon took a careful step forward, and when the room did not begin to spin around him again, proceeded to the closest set of shutters. As he pulled then open, he was not met with a window to the outdoors like he expected, rather, a vibrant painting depicting two children playing near a pond in the woods. Kon blinked, startled by the strange sight. He moved down the hall to the next set of shutters; here, the painting was of a sprawling mountain range, backlit by a vibrant sunset. The next, an old well in an empty field, and the next, a little girl holding a bright red balloon on a street corner.
“What the hell,” Kon murmured, running his fingers over the barely-there brushstrokes. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say the little girls eyes were following him. He quickly shut the shutters and fastened the latch for good measure. He had no doubt the rest of the shutters in the hall hid similar paintings. It was all unlike anything he had seen before.
Deciding that he wasn’t quite ready to face any other mildly-disturbing paintings so soon after waking up, Kon continued down the hall towards the only other open door aside from his own. The music was louder there. He peered inside to find a quaint kitchen, similarly lit by candelabras. At the far end of the room, an old wood burning stove was flanked by two towering floor-to-ceiling windows. In the center of the room, a family-sized wooden table with six chairs.
“Oh good, you’re awake.”
Kon whipped around to the other side of the room and found himself face-to-face with a young man seated on a stool at the kitchen island next to an ancient-looking record player—the source of the music from earlier.. He had a newspaper clutched between pale, delicate fingers, and his shiny black hair was pulled back into a small ponytail. His bang were fluffy and stopped just above a set of pale, piercing blue eyes. Kon didn’t think he had ever seen such gorgeous eyes in his life.
Tim, this is Tim, his mind supplied. Memories from the previous night faded in and out of his mind, hazy and incomplete.
“Hi,” Kon greeted, lamely.
“Hi yourself. How are you feeling?” Tim, stood from the stool he was lounging on and stepped around the island. The newspaper—the Gotham Gazette, upon closer inspection—was left folded neatly on the counter. “Nothing too sore?”
Kon’s brain short circuited as he took in Tim’s appearance. He was wearing a tight black turtleneck tucked into wide-leg dress pants that billowed with each step he took. A delicate pearl necklace hung along his neckline and his sleek leather belt had a simple silver buckle that gleamed in the candlelight. Two dainty diamond earrings peaked out from behind his hair. He was the most gorgeous man Kon had ever seen.
“I—”
Tim stopped just inches away from him, and extended a dainty hand to press gently against his forehead. His fingers were just as cool was Kon remembered from the night before. Tim was just slightly taller than him, Kon realized.
The beauty before him hummed. “Good. It feels like your fever has gone down. We’ll have to keep an eye on that. Infections are a nasty business.”
Kon nodded dumbly, unable to summon any words with the other man so close. He found himself lost into pools of pale blue. Suddenly, he was disturbed by something soft rubbing against his leg.
Kon yanked away from Tim’s hand, the daze he had fallen under effectively shattered.“Holy shit—” At his feet, looking up at him with bright green eyes, was a small black cat. “Hello there.”
Tim’s smile was blinding and he dipped down to scoop the small creature into his arms. “There you are, my darling. This is our guest. Say hello to Supernova!”
Kon blinked at the creature being held out towards him and waved, hesitant.
“Her name is Cat.” A sharp grin cut across Tim’s face, and Kon, an expert in mischief, could sense his amusement from a mile away. “Short for Catheter.”
“I’m sorry— short for what?”
Tim was grinning, bright and brilliant. “You heard me.”
“Did you name her?”
“She named herself. I had a textbook open on my desk when she came home for the first time. Plopped right down for a nap onto of a diagram of a catheter insertion.”
“That’s—”
“Wonderful? I know. She’s my little genius.” Tim pressed a kiss to the top of Cat’s head. She purred contently, her sharp green eyes meeting Kon’s.
“Well, I was going to say disturbing, but wonderful works too. It’s nice to meet you, Miss Catheter.” Taking a step forward, Kon inserted himself firmly into Tim’s personal space and reached out to let Cat sniff him. She responded enthusiastically, leaning into his hand for pets and purring with a renewed vigor. Kon looked up, triumphant, only to be met with Tim’s bewildered expression. “What?”
“She doesn’t normally like strangers,” Tim explained. He shifted, and Cat happily crawled over to Kon’s waiting arms. “This is so bizarre, normally she’d be trying to claw your face off.”
“Well, you know the whole ‘Super’ thing. Saving cat’s from trees and all that.” Kon smiled softly down at Cat and began to rub soothing circles into the soft fur on her belly. He shifted her so that she would still be cradled safely without putting pressure on his wound. “Animals have always liked me.”
Tim whispered something under his breath; quiet enough that in his de-powered state, Kon couldn’t hear. He cocked his head and raised a questioning brow, only for Tim to blush and take a step away. Cat, to her credit, did not seem to notice the shift in tension and attempted to nuzzle directly into Kon’s bandages.
“Shit—” Kon hissed, and without thinking, dropped the offending cat.
“Cat!” Tim shouted, a reprimand and concern all in one.
Cat wrapped herself around Kon’s leg, blinking up with wide, innocent eyes.
Without thinking, Kon lifted the hem of his shirt, and sure enough, there was spots of red seeping through the bandage again. “Well, shit. Come on, Cat, that hurt.” He looked up at Tim, only to find the other man already staring intently at his chest. Embarrassment cut through him, quick and hot, and he tried his best to bury it before the emotion could show on his face. It wasn’t like Tim hadn’t seen him shirtless countless times in the past 24 hours as he fished chunks of kryptonite out of his chest.
Tim continued to stare at the red seeping through the bandages, unblinking. The blush from before returned with vigor; his tongue darted out, arrow-quick, to wet his lips.
“Tim?”
The other man startled, eyes tearing away to meet Kon’s.
“I— sorry. Shit, sorry. Let’s make sure your stitches are okay.” Tim turned away, and Kon didn’t miss the way his blush traveled to the back of his neck. “Here, follow me. I can get you the radio while we’re at it.”
Taking care not to trip over Cat, Kon followed Tim back into the hall and into a room a few doors down from the kitchen. This room was also dimly lit, but rather than the candelabras from the hall or the towering windows from the kitchen, the light here came from various Tiffany lamps and stained glass chandeliers, each casting their own rainbow glow around the space. Each wall was lined with towering bookshelves; they even had those rolling ladders to be able to reach the higher shelves. Not for the first time, Kon was left in awe of the manor he had found himself in.
Tim wasted little time in procuring a medical kit from a cabinet near the door.
“Do you have one of those in every room?” Kon asked, genuinely curious. Tim didn’t seem like the type of person to be accident-prone enough to need so many first-aid supplies.
Tim just shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I like to be prepared.” He pointed to a cushioned chair next to an old wooden desk. “Sit. Let me check your stitches.”
Kon obeyed, making quick work of his shirt. Tim knelt down in front of him, and Kon had to fight off the fluttering feeling in his stomach. Any closer, and Tim would be pressed between his legs, and he did not need to think about the way that idea made him feel, no thank you. Tim made quick work of the bandages and Kon did his best to keep from squirming as cool fingers prodded gently at the largest of the wounds on his chest.
“Good news, nothing tore. You are still pretty inflamed, but not much worse than earlier. Do you know if antibiotics work for you?”
Kon shook his head. “Not usually, but I don’t usually get infected wounds either.”
“It can’t hurt to try, then.” Tim reached into the kit and procured a fresh roll of gauze. “This might hurt again.”
Once again, Kon found himself in awe of the tender and methodical manner in which Tim wrapped his wound. Just enough pressure to make sure it was snug, but not enough to cause undue pain. Not for the first time, Kon found himself wondering how he had come to be so experienced with wound care.
Tim pulled back after securing the end of the bandage with medical tape. “There we go, good as new. I’ll have to give Cat a stern talking to about stepping on the chests of wounded guests.” He was smiling, softer now than before.
“Thank you,” Kon said, and he meant it. “For everything. I don’t know what would have happened to me if you hadn’t found me out there.”
“I’m sure you would have been alright. You are Supernova, after all.”
There it was again; Tim’s emphasis on his identity as Supernova. It wasn’t cruel or mocking, like Kon was used to. He was the inferior Superman, the screw-up who made mistakes that go people killed. Who lead with his feelings rather than his head; who was too sensitive and trusting. No, when Tim said it, there was something deeper. Something almost reverent.
Before he could ponder it further, Tim reached for something on the desk behind him, and held up an old radio. It was clearly modified to hell and back, Kon was certain it was capable of much more than a standard two-way frequency. Yet despite all of its upgrades, there was nothing digital to it. Was everything in this house analogue?
“I’m sorry. Technology doesn’t work very well out here.”
“Oh, sure.” Kon blushed. “I mean, it’s no problem! I’m sure I’ll be able to find a way to contact them. Thank you, really.”
Kon ran his fingers over the radio, taking in each ridge and button. There were wires coming out the top and connecting to a smaller box which had been taped to the side of the radio, something he was certain had not been included in the original design. He glanced up through his bangs only to find Tim already watching him, eyes intent and piercing.
“Did you make this?” Kon asked, though he already knew the answer.
Tim shrugged, but couldn’t hide the red that returned to his delicate cheekbones. “I have a lot of free time.”
And wasn’t that non answer everything? Kon’s fingers continued to trace along the hard line of the radio while his eyes remained fixed on Tim and his delightfully red checks. He was softer like this, like the proof of blood running through his veins was enough to smooth out the firm marble of his features. It shouldn’t have been so enticing. It wasn’t supposed to be enticing.
Kon shook himself and felt the tell-tale heat of his own blush. He ducked his head, but not before seeing Tim’s eyes widen just a fraction.
“Um, thank you. Yes.” Kon bit at the inside of his cheek, allowing the sharper-than-usual pain to ground him. “Thank you. For the radio. Um. I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Wait!” The volume must have shocked them both, because when Kon looked back up Tim’s blush was darker and his mouth was held open in the wake of his command. “You— Sorry, I mean. You don’t have to… go.”
Kon swallowed. “Like, from the house?”
“No! No, of course not.” Tim jerked his head away, and Kon was given a close up view of how his blush trailed down the back of his neck. “Or the room. Or your room. I don’t mind you being here.”
And wasn’t that damning? Before Kon could think better of it, he was leaning forward, his fingers brushing against the back of Tim’s hands.
“Tim,” he said, earnest as the day professed he would save the world, “Thank you.”
The other man’s pale eyes were locked onto the point of contact between them, and he swallowed deeply. His Addams apple bobbed and, really, Kon was just a man, he couldn’t be blamed for—
Tim jerked his hand away.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Please, feel free to stay for as long as you need. Can’t have the world losing Supernova, can we?”
Kon was rooted in place, his eyes boring into Tim’s back as he retreated from the library. As his tall form was swallowed by the darkness of the hallway, Kon felt the ghost of his touch lingering on the tips of his fingers. Damning indeed.