Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kon wasn’t really sure how or when is started, or maybe he was… it was complicated. As far as he knew the team was finally settling onto itself and Superman was finally acknowledging him – had even given him a name – and then, out of nowhere, Robin had decided he didn’t want to be Robin anymore and he left and Kaldur was hanging around with a girl and Roy was sneaking around with Artemis’ sister and everything seemed so different and he didn’t like it.

Finally, M’gann betrayed him in the most unthinkable way, in ways Kon only thought Luthor capable of and the young clone found himself doubting his own identity, his very grasp of reality up until that point.

So he did the only thing he could do.

He collapsed.

Thank Rao Clark had been there to catch him on his way to Honolulu – he had always liked the warmer climate – and had dragged him, kicking and screaming to Kansas, to Smallville, to Ma’ and Pa’.

Though he was proud to admit he had managed to pierce his ears before he was caught, his own very ridiculous act of rebellion that still made Clark’s brows furrow and Ma’ sigh in fond exasperation.

Still, with his hands deep in soil, the sun hitting his back until sweat soaked his shirt, Pa’s hand on his shoulder and Ma’s pie on his stomach, Kon-El began the arduous process of finding whatever part of his shared DNA was actually himself.

And hopefully healing.

Some had called him selfish for ditching the team and his duties. Some had compared him to Robin’s ego and Wally’s cowardice, some of the new kids scoffed whenever his name was mentioned and loudly expressed their opinion over his choices, fully aware his superhearing allowed him to receive such abuse despite the distance, up to the point when he stopped checking on the team and HQ, when he decided he was not going to worry for people who couldn’t find it in themselves to worry about his well-being.

Well… until Ma’ told him he shouldn’t, at the very least.

It hurt.

Of that he was sure.

A few years passed.

When he was finally stable enough to return to the team, a somber mood had fallen over HQ. Wally and Artemis were gone, for one, feeling too old to be out in the field, too scared. Kaldur, on the other hand, had turned traitor on them, deciding to join his father – and who would have guessed? Kaldur?. M’gann had a new boyfriend.

Robin was dead.

He hadn’t been quite sure what had happened – only that the Robin who had died wasn’t the Robin he had worked with, that one was Nightwing now, but his replacement – and that his former teammates were now older and busy training younger counterparts to take their places.

Roy had a clone named ‘Arsenal’, there was another Robin – a third? –, there was another little Kid Flash – who preferred to go by ‘Impulse’ and a strange blue-suited kid who spoke to himself a whole lot of the time, and Nightwing was the new leader and advisor.

Kon felt lost, alienated from this new team that was half in awe of his powers and achievements and half too afraid to approach him should they incur in his infamous wrath.

So, without really knowing any other options, he did what he had done in the very beginning, he kept to himself, spent the nights back in Smallville, despite Nightwing’s protests, and only came over if his presence was absolutely necessary, which wasn’t often.

And, it was due to his self-imposed solitude, that this new revelation of his happened.

---

He first noticed the new Robin as something other than a replacement of the last two when he came to the realization that he, actually, couldn’t notice him at all.

And it was as confusing to explain as it was to experience it. He had grown far too accustomed to Nightwing’s overly-eager persona and how he used to barrel his way into Kon’s personal space in order to coax him out of his so-called shell, so when he noticed that the new kid walked around on silent feet and usually made sure to be as unobstructive as possible give the chance, the clone didn’t know what to think about it.

So he spoke.

“Are you a meta?” he asked one afternoon as the boy glided past him, his eyes widening when the teen squeaked in surprise and fell on his ass. “Are you okay?”

“I… I… yes?” Robin replied, his cheeks flushing a bright red that made his pale face – paler than Nightwing’s had been – turn the same shade of his uniform.

Kon nodded.

“So,” he repeated. “Are you a meta or not?”

“N-no!” Robin cried, shaking his head. “I’m human!”

The clone frowned.

“But you fly.”

“Huh?”

“You float like C-like Superman,” the older teen scowled. “There is no other explanation.”

Robin frowned.

“Explanation for…” he asked back, tilting his head to the side the same way Wolf did when he was confused.

“You make no sound when you walk,” Kon explained, nodding to himself. “You only make a sound when you want to and it’s weird.”

The color on Robin’s cheeks darkened.

“Thank you?”

“It wasn’t a compliment,” the clone corrected. “It’s your power.”

“Uh…” Robin hesitated, he did that a lot. “It’s not a power… I’m just really quiet.”

Kon stared, not satisfied by such answer. There was no way the teen was just a human. There was no human that quiet, it was impossible…

… then again Clark used to say Batman had that ability as well.

He nodded.

“Are you Batman’s son?” he asked this time, his curiosity peaked.

Robin stared.

“No?” he said softly. “And before you ask, he’s not a meta either. We are just really quiet.”

The clone nodded.

Robin hesitated – again.

“Do you… do you really think I’m that quiet?” he asked. “As quiet as Batman?”

“You are,” Kon replied, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s really weird.”

Robin lowered his eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

Kon wanted to say something on the face of the other teen’s obvious misery. He thought of something M’gann or Nightwing would have said but the thought of them – those who were leaving him behind – left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Ma’ told him once nothing could go wrong if he opened his heart and spoke with honesty, and Ma’ was seldom wrong, so he decided to be honest this time…

However, as he was opening his mouth to tell Robin not even Nightwing had been that quiet when they met – something that even he could consider high praise – they were rudely interrupted by loud footsteps and the metallic clank of a hand against the doorway.

“Baby Bird?” Roy – the other Roy, the Arsenal Roy – asked as he entered the room. “There you are! You promised we were gonna spar, remember?”

Robin turned, still sitting on the floor, and his eyes visibly widened behind his mask.

“Ah, I was…” he muttered. “Water.”

“You were running away,” Arsenal leered in a way that made Robin’s cheeks regain their red hue and Kon’s eyes narrow dangerously despite himself.

“I wasn’t!” Robin protested, jumping gracefully to his feet. “I got distracted while talking to Kon-El!”

Kon blinked.

Arsenal stared.

“Who?” he asked.

Robin pointed a hesitant finger towards the clone.

“Superboy?” he asked, and then his finger fell as he realized what he had done. “I … ah! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to presume, but Batman said that was your name and I…”

“It’s fine,” Kon said, nodding at the smaller teen. “I like my name.”

Robin stared at him for a moment, his eyes wide.

Then he smiled, a shy curl to the lips.

Kon felt something inside of him warm up.

Arsenal scowled.

“Stop stalling, Baby Bird!” he protested, pulling the other boy to him by the arm and the scooping him until Robin was draped over his shoulder. “I wanna go kick your ass!”

Robin scowled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Is this about that Arrow Training versus Bat Training thing again?” he asked, so visibly annoyed Kon was actually surprised. “I told you Batman didn’t train me like he trained Nightwing!”

“More the reason to kick that pretty ass of yours to the floor!” Arsenal beamed mockingly, his step light. “Then you’ll let me see that doll face you have behind your mask, right?”

“What?!” Robin protested, struggling. “No way!”

Arsenal only replied with a mocking, roaring laugh as he turned the corner and disappeared from sight, Robin still over his shoulder like a captured prey.

Kon felt his clenched fist bend the steel framing of the couch as he tried to control this new, unnamed emotion he was just now discovering.

No one other than Nightwing could make Robin smile, and even that required for the elder hero to practically make a fool of himself to achieve.

But Kon had done it, all on his own.

He had made Robin smile.

Robin had a pretty smile, at that. One that fit his quiet and unobstructive personality.

It was very nice.

And then Roy-clone had to barge in on whatever connection had formed between them – and it had been a connection, something human and empathetic and gentle. Nothing mental or telepathic, not anymore – and taken Robin away for whatever ridiculous contest the Arrows had with the Bats, teasing and leering in that uncomfortable way that reminded Kon of Wally’s younger years.

But worse.

It was dirtier, filthy.

It made the warmth inside of Kon slowly simmer into a boil and every single one of his muscles tense, his vision turning a violent red.

For a moment, he wanted Robin back and Arsenal gone, and the intensity of such emotion frightened him.

Especially when he noticed the newly made scorch marks that now adorned the place Roy had last been standing.

He needed to call Clark.

-------

Impulse had some strange knowledge of the future that made him frightening and dangerous in ways Kon didn’t want to consider.

Nightwing seemed amused by his cheerful personality – they were far too similar in Kon’s opinion – and the older hero usually encouraged his childish behavior with enthusiasm.

Robin, on the other hand, held a definitive mix of tolerance and wariness for the speedster. He spent time with him when Impulse requested it, and sometimes they could be found engaging in deep conversations about science and technology that made Blue Beetle leave them alone for hours and Kon’s ears hurt.

During such conversations Bart would often drape himself over Robin, snuggling into the other boy’s personal space. And Robin would be so engrossed in whatever they were doing, that he would absently end up petting Impulse’s fluffy hair instead of reacting with his usually shy demeanor.

Kon would have been angry – Clark said it was normal for him to be angry, all the while smiling as if he was the holder of one gigantic secret, the bastard – but he had already seen Arsenal try to get the same petting from the smaller teen, only to be refuted with a squeak of surprise, a colorful curse, and a foot planted on the forehead that left a mark lasting for a day.

The sight had filled him with a satisfaction that had only soured when he realized it meant Impulse was someone special. Someone Robin considered unique.

Like Nightwing.

He felt bitter.

A part of him was acutely aware that his fascination with the younger boy was not normal. The way his eyes would instantly zero-in on his red and black uniform whenever he entered the room, how he was constantly seeking out Robin’s heartbeat and reveling in its soothing, steady sound at night.

The beating of Robin’s heart was a far better alternative than the static sound of the T.V. he used during the day, anyways. It helped him concentrate, block all other sounds and enjoy silence his power seldom allowed.

Damn, even the fact that Robin always called him by his name Kon-El, instead of Conner – Superman’s name instead of M’gann’s – made the clone irresistibly intrigued by the lonesome teenager with the silent feet and the shy smile.

“I don’t get it,” Jaime said one day as he allowed himself to fall on the couch. “Don’t you guys want to watch something other than static?”

Kon frowned, not comfortable with the sudden intrusion in his space. He had been spending time alone, so what did Beetle mean with: ‘You guys’? Was he talking to the voices in his head again and he just happened to be nearby?

“Superboy uses the sound to block his super-hearing and I don’t mind, the white noise helps me concentrate,” a soft, shy voice called in a sigh.

The clone blinked, eyes wide as he finally noticed that Robin was sitting in a plush chair to his right, his knees drawn to his chest, his eyes set on the holo-screen of his wrist computer as he read, fingers dancing over the keyboard expertly.

Impulse appeared, holding a bowl of popcorn bigger than his chest.

“You do?” he asked, prompting Superboy to stare at him.

“… I do,” he admitted almost too silently.

“That’s so crash!” the other teen beamed, dropping himself in the last available single chair in the room.

Blue Beetle scowled, his mouth pursing.

“How did you know?” he asked Robin, leaning closer to the other teen.

Robin flushed.

“I… I just…”

“He’s Robin, Bro!” Impulse laughed, eyes wide. “He knows everything!”

Blue Beetle took the challenge immediately.

“Oh really?” he asked. “Then what’s my name?”

“Psh! Blue!” Impulse chortled. “We all know your name!”

“Nah!” the other teen laughed, his smile daring. “The whole-“

“Jaime Francisco Reyes Aguilar,” Robin whispered softly, his eyes set on the screen.

“…thing…” Jaime finished, shocked. “Holy shit, hermano! Did you just look that up!?”

 “Ummm, no?” Robin replied. “I remember it from the time you showed us your driver’s license.”

“You are very observant,” Kon said, feeling emboldened when Robin’s attention turned to him.

“Thank you,” he said awkwardly. “Though it’s not a superpower either.”

Kon smiled lightly.

“I’ll get you yet,” he replied, his lips twitching.

Robin nodded, his own small smile curling his lips.

And yeah, maybe he wasn’t petted on the head like Impulse – and he had to admit it looked like something nice to feel, the way Robin’s thin fingers carded through his hair – but he still had an ability no one else had.

And he treasured it.

 

Chapter Text

Impulse – Bart, he wanted to be called Bart – had decided today was the perfect summer day for them to have their own, personal, secret field-trip, something only the new generation could do, keeping the rest of the team and their mentors ignorant and maybe using it as training for stealth and espionage.

Team-work exercises maybe?

Kon wasn’t sure, the speedster talked far too much for his liking.

At first, the clone had not been really into the idea. He could still remember the last time someone had invited him to do team-building exercises and what had happened to that team in the end, and he had felt gratified that neither Blue Beetle – Jaime, hermano, come on! If you call him Bart call me Jaime – nor Arsenal had agreed to the improvised outing as well.

None of them were stealth agents in the team anyways.

That’s what Robin was for and since that particular day the teen was absent from HQ, there was really no point in them training in an ability none were going to actually use.

Was there?

But then Bart had finally slumped in his seat, his pose defeated as he admitted he had wanted the four of them to sneak into Gotham in their civies – no powers, no weapons, just four teens undercover – and look for Robin in his house – and of course Bart knew where Robin’s house was located, du’h, future knowledge? – because today it was Robin’s birthday and he knew for a fact the teen would spend most of the day alone and it wasn’t fair someone as nice as Robin had to spend the day on his own, was it?

The clone had immediately agreed to the excursion – internally arguing that he could act as their adult supervision, right? He was older? -  and yeah, it had a lot to do with the fact that Arsenal had instantly jumped at the chance to catch ‘Baby Bird’ in his element.

He was not going to leave Robin on his birthday alone with Bart and Jaime, vulnerable to Arsenal's inappropriate teasing.

Because spending one’s birthday alone was painful, he told himself as he put on the flannel shirt and glasses Impul… Bart insisted he used for the perfect disguise. He had spent his last birthday alone and it had hurt to notice his friends had picked sides after his and M’gann’s break-up…

… and no one had picked his.

Yes, he repeated to himself as he checked himself in the mirror and scowled at how much he looked like Clark, he just wanted to spare Robin the hurt the way the other teen spared him the loneliness by sitting with him when he watched TV and how he paid attention to him in those little ways he usually did that made Kon feel special and unique.

It was the least he could do.

And so, there they were, all four of them trying not to fidget as they sat on a crowded bus, Arsenal eyeing the outside world through the window with disinterest while Kon did his best not to move and Jaime held Bart down so the other teen did not vibrate as he cheerfully spoke onto his phone.

“I know Bro, you are the crash-est!” he beamed, laughing almost maniacally. “And I know I double, no, I triple owe you! I’ll keep a shrine to your memory! I swear! Forever!”

And while Jaime and Arsenal eyed the speedster in confusion, Kon could easily hear Wally’s tired, hesitant voice on the other end of the line as he typed on his computer.

“Sure, sure, Bart,” he said, his own smile clear in his voice. “Just remember I can distract Nightwing and Batgirl for about thirty minutes, tops. You have until then to reach destination before the Bats fall onto you.”

“Will do! We are almost entering the city now! More than enough time to lose ourselves in the crowd!” the younger speedster said happily, almost unable to keep still on his seat. “Have I told you how awesome and handsome and crash you are?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wally said. “Thirty minutes, Bart, don’t make me regret this.”

“Roger!” the teen said, finally pocketing his phone and grinning a wide – and rather disturbing -  smile at his friends. “As soon as the bus stops we are on the subway guys, we can’t stop moving until we hit destination.”

“Destination being…” Arsenal raised an eyebrow, slowly adjusting the blue baseball cap he wore over his eyes.

“Robin's house, obviously,” the speedster replied, grabbing his bag.

The bus entered the city just as the four of them prepared to disembark and even before the first passenger was ready, they were out and entering the underbelly of Gotham, heads lowered, hands brushing against eachother, always one step behind the surveillance cameras.

They had twenty minutes.

The people in Gotham were different than the ones in Metropolis, Kon thought, and definitely different than the ones in Smallville.

There was a tense set on their shoulders, a mistrustful glint in their eyes and in the way they avoided any and every shadow if they could help it.

All citizens kept a hand on their pocket – and a quick surveillance with his x-ray vision showed Kon some were clutching their keys, some held spray cans of some sort, some were just tightening their hold of their phones – and the other free as they rode the train.

It was so strange to see these people ready for an attack and yet going through their daily lives normally.

No wonder Robin was always so tense.

Kon continued to stare at his surroundings, his hand held tightly in Bart’s as the smaller teen steered him around.

“Fifteen minutes,” Jaime whispered to them, eyes set on his plastic watch.

“Let’s hurry,” Bart said, nodding.

“Don’t run,” Arsenal hissed back, eyes narrowing. “You use your powers and Batman will be in our asses in seconds.”

“Awww…” Bart replied, his lips pursing. “We won’t make it in time if we don’t hurry.”

“Where exactly are we going?” Jaime asked, shaking his head.

“Gotham Heights,” Bart laughed.

Kon watched as Bl-Jaime muttered something to himself, his eyes narrowing for a moment before something blue-yellow-green glittered in his eyes and then, finally, he nodded.

“Follow me,” the teen said, smirk wide. “I think I know a shortcut if we cut behind Grant Park, but we’ll need to run the human way. You can do that Imp?”

Bart nodded, his smile impossibly wide.

“Sups?” the speedster asked.

Kon nodded as well, not sure.

“Then we follow Beetle and run for our lives?” Arsenal asked, his own lips curling.

A shadow passed over them with a familiar black-grey cape.

All four teens started running then, not daring to turn around.

Fourteen minutes and thirty seconds later they were walking towards a bright red door surrounded with cheerful flowers and a golden doorbell.

It was definitely not the house he has expected Robin to live in. He had thought it would be a Spartan apartment with wide windows and grey walls, a place full of maps and dull colors where everything was functional.

... The Easter Island Statue in the middle of the hallway he could see through the sidewall of the house was definitely nothing functional.

... Or aesthetic.

Bart rang the doorbell, swinging back and forth in the balls of his feet.

Everyone held their breath.

The door opened.

And a rather sweet-looking, white haired old lady with a colorful apron and glasses slowly slipping down her nose stared at them.

“Yes?” she asked, tilting her head.

Bart smiled.

“Hi! We’re looking for T…” the speedster stopped, shiftily looking at his friends. “Ummm we are here for…”

The woman blinked at them, and Kon could swear she was ready to call the police on them – if the way she eyed Arsenal’s bulging jacket-sleeve was any indication – and the clone couldn’t blame her, to be honest. But then her eyes were light and her hesitant smile gained force as she beamed.

“Oh! Just a second boys!” she said, instantly disappearing behind the door once more.

“Dude! What the hell!” Jaime complained, his hand about to slap Bart at the back of the head.

“I can’t just say Rob’s name!” the speedster argued. “Secret identities!”

“But you know it?” Arsenal asked, his interest peaked.

Kon had to admit it was a little unfair Bart knew Robin’s name before he did. And, of course he understood the future knowledge and everything, it was normal for Bart to know things they didn’t.

It still felt like a betrayal.

The door opened once more.

A slender teenager was standing there in an over-sized grey hoodie and jeans.

A phone to his ear.

“It’s okay, dad, I understand you guys are busy,” he was saying, his voice soft. “Yeah, I love you too. Tell mom as soon as you guys come home we’ll go to the movies. Aha… Ahah? Yeah, me too.”

Light blue eyes turned to them.

Then widened.

“I… I gotta go dad, tell mom I love her too, bye!” he hurried to say, his finger frantically pressing the off button. “What on Earth are you doing here!!”

“Hey, buddy!” Bart beamed, fishing into his pant’s pocket for a clumsily wrapped small package. “Happy Birthday!”

“You can’t be here!” Robin argued once more, hands pulling his hoodie over his head to hide his features. “How are you here?!”

“Don’t look at me, hermano,” Jaime shrugged. “Bart decided it would be great stealth training.”

“And we didn’t want you to be alone on your birthday!” the speedster interrupted, jumping. “Aren’t we such great friends?”

That gave Robin a pause.

“Really?” he asked, his voice gaining his usual nervous lilt. “You knew I was… what am I saying, you and your future knowledge and…”

He bit his bottom lip.

“I’ll be out in a moment,” he declared finally, entering the house once more.

Arsenal whistled.

“I knew he had a doll-face!” he laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. “He looks like a girl!”

“He does not!” Bart protested.

Kon kept silent as he watched them argue, his brow furrowed.

Robin had blue eyes.

Not blue like Clark’s or his own, a darker blue, night-sky blue.

And his nose was a little crooked, maybe he broke it at some point and didn’t set it right?

Robin’s face was nothing how he had imagined it and yet perfect in its own way.

He smiled.

The door to the house opened one last time as Robin exited with a quick: “Thanks Mrs. Mac! I’ll be back tonight!”

He was still wearing his washed-out jeans and thread-bare sneakers, but now his grey hoodie was replaced by a smaller red one and he was now sporting the customary sunglasses all members of the family sported.

Arsenal sneered.

“What’s the point of wearing those anymore, Baby Bird?” he asked, wrapping his normal arm around Robin’s shoulders. “We already know your pretty, pretty face.”

Robin’s lips pursed as he deepened his elbow onto Arsenal’s stomach, easily side-stepping the other teen.

“I don’t want to be caught in the surveillance cameras without them,” he replied, shaking his head. “Batman is going to be pissed enough already.”

“Aw, relax, Rob!” Bart laughed. “Wally’s distracting him and Dick for a while! We have a head start!”

 “And if anything goes wrong I’m here to fly us all out of the city before Batman can catch us?” Jaime added, his chest puffing with pride. “I’m sorry. When everything goes wrong.”

Robin’s shoulders slumped.

“I’m sorry you were dragged into this, Kon-El,” he said finally, turning to stare at the clone. “I hope they don’t get you into too much trouble?”

Kon shook his head.

“I wanted to come on my own free will,” he said bluntly. “Happy Birthday, Robin.”

Robin’s lips curled upwards.

“Thank you.”

Kon smiled back.

“Ma’ baked you a pie, but Impulse ate it on the way here,” he said after a pause, his hands on his pockets. “I’ll owe you a present for now.”

“I was hungry!” Bart complained, his cheeks puffing like a chipmunk.

Robin laughed a breath, soft laugh that seemed to be born from the deepest recesses of his chest.

“It’s okay,” he said finally, his smile still present. “Now, before you four buffoons attract more attention, let’s go to Big Belly’s?”

Kon arched an eyebrow, not sure what Big Belly’s was, but considering the loud cheers of victory Bart was spouting and the confident way Arsenal and Jaime agreed to the suggestion, it was a good place to go to.

“Rob! Rob! Open my present!!” Bart said, wrapping his arms around Robin’s back and depositing his misshapen package in the palm of his hand. “Jaime and I chose it! You like it don’t you? Of course you do!”

“Let me open it first, Bart,” Robin said, allowing the other teen to climb into his back and rest his chin on his bony shoulder. Jaime watched them with a grin and Arsenal tried to peek into the little package even before Robin was done opening.

Kon was already seeing the content with his X-ray vision, and yeah, he shouldn’t have, but he had never claimed to be a patient person, and he was already famous for his curiosity – or at least he was in Smallville, where there had been a rather unfortunate incident with Pa’s truck and a nest of baby chicks – so he didn’t really bother to hide his scrutiny.

Also, he had to know what Robin would like, and prepare to give him a special present himself.

He wanted to make Robin smile always, after all.

“A keychain?” Arsenal asked, scowling.

Sure enough, dangling between Robin’s thumb and index finger was a small keychain with a fat, round black and white bird with menacing blue eyes and a patch of red feathers on its face and chest.

Robin’s eyes widened.

“We thought a red breasted Robin would be a little too on the nose,” Jaime said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand.

“So we got you the Pokémon equivalent!” Bart beamed. “He even looks a little like you!”

 “He does?” Robin asked, his smile too terribly bright Kon thought he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

“Taillow is a badass!” the speedster assured.

“He does look like you,” Kon interrupted, his face close to Robin’s to examine his features.

The smaller teen’s cheeks went immediately red.

Arsenal scowl’s deepened.

“Let’s go before Batman finds us guys,” he said loudly, dragging Robin away from the others by the arm. “I want a Soder.”

Bart yelped as he fell face-first onto the lawn, Jaime helping him up with a sigh.

Kon’s face darkened.

Robin shook his head.

“Umm… Big Belly’s serves Zesti, Roy,” he said. “Not Soder.”

“What?”

With that same warmth he had come to appreciate as his Robin-is-near warmth pooling in his stomach and the cold Arsenal-is-being-stupid in his veins, Kon started to follow the two as they descended into a snipping argument over the virtues of their drinks of choice with loud comments from Bart and exasperated inputs by Jaime.

All in all, Kon-El was glad to have come, if only to make sure he was part of this day in Robin’s life.

And the fact he could now look at the dark skies in Kansas and know Robin’s eyes were that same, indomitable color. 

Chapter Text

"You act different with people," Kon said as he took a sip of his second round of chocolate milkshake - that tasted like sugar, chemicals and all those things that Ma' complained about back in Kansas but tasted like something so good no wonder Clark kept a steady supply hidden in his fridge in Metropolis - and tried not to blink when Robin chocked on his Zesti.

"W-what?" the other teen asked, his cheeks flushing a bright red. "What do you mean?"

Kon shrugged his shoulders.

"When you are with Arsenal you act annoyed and don't hesitate to use violence against him," the clone explained.

Robin scowled.

"He calls me names..." he defended himself. "And he's not all that big himself."

"And when Bart rests in your lap, you pet his head," Kon continued, ignoring the soaring satisfaction bubbling inside of his chest at the thought that Robin seemed to so obviously dislike Arsenal. "Why?"

The other teen's body language turned shy.

"I'm usually not conscious about it," he admitted. "Mrs. Mac... Ah, the woman that opened the door to you all, she has a cat and the thing likes to curl in my lap when I'm reading."

Kon's scowl deepened.

"So when Bart does it..."

"I usually am so distracted I think it's Mrs. Mac's cat and I pet him," the teen finished, his shoulders slumped. "I guess I sound so lame now..."

The clone thought about it for a moment, eyes straying to where Bart, Jaime and Arsenal where engaged in a heated debate over an arcade machine with a colorful monkey with a red tie - he had refused to join them because he didn't like the look of the scowling monkey and the loud music, which was perfectly fine for someone with his powers – Kon couldn’t help but notice how tactile Bart was around people, the way he clung to Jaime’s back and played with his measly beard, his cheek tightly pressed against his own.

It was unsettling.

“He is rather… touchy,” he said finally, his shoulders shrugging.

“I think it’s because he’s young…” Robin said, shaking his head.

“Young?” Kon asked, turning once more to look at the other teen, an eyebrow rising.

Robin nodded in mid sip of his drink.

“He’s five.”

Kon’s eyes widened.

“Five?” he asked, leaning forward in his seat to try and look at the young speedster and find any indication as to such age.

There was none.

“He doesn’t look five to me,” Kon argued, his whole body a picture of disappointment.

Robin chuckled.

“And you don’t look six,” he argued back, his eyes set on his colorful cup.

Kon stared at Robin for a moment, his eyes searching for something he couldn’t name on that shy smile of his and, once more, feeling a simmering of anger under his skin at the fact that he couldn’t see the other teen’s eyes, that Batman had forbidden him from ever sharing the sight with others.

Then again, maybe like Arsenal had said, Robin was far too pretty for his own good, and his boss – or his father, Kon still clung to that theory – was afraid of all the unwanted attention he would gather towards himself if people saw his naked, beautiful face up close.

It made sense to Kon, at the very least.

“No one has ever been younger than me,” he said at last, his own cheeks coloring in shame at such admission.

“Now someone is?” Robin asked hesitantly, his lips pursing in thought. “Though, I don’t think I should have told you that, it wasn’t my secret to tell after all.”

The clone blinked.

“It’s a secret?” he asked, leaning closer to Robin to convey the secrecy the way Wally and Nightwing did sometimes during their youth.

Robin fidgeted.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Bart has never made an issue of it but… then again, he never makes an issue out of anything. Maybe this was different?”

“Maybe it wasn’t,” Kon tried at once, not liking the fact that Robin’s smile had suddenly disappeared and unable to blame Bart for it. “Maybe we can get even?”

Robin stared at him, his tongue wetting his lower lip.

“Get even…” he repeated, his voice a whisper. “How?”

Kon nodded in his best impression of Clark’s calm smile and hoping he didn’t look half as deranged as Arsenal once said he did.

“You tell me a secret and I’ll tell you one too,” he said, finding no flaw in the logic of his plan. “We will all have a breach of our secrecy and should be even with Bart.”

A dark eyebrow raised over robin’s sunglasses in disbelief.

Kon maintained his awkward smile, his fingers tightening a little over the rim of the table he was holding onto.

Robin sighed.

“My parents don’t know about me… about this, I mean,” he said finally, gesturing with his Zetsi at the group. “They have to travel a lot because of work and I took advantage of that to join Batman.”

The clone listened intently, his fingers relaxing against the wood of the table when the other boy’s lips curled downwards.

“Sometimes I wish I could tell them and have their blessing but…” he shook his head. “I know they would make me stop and I am so ashamed to admit if  I was to choose between the mission and my parent’s approval… I…”

“You wouldn’t choose them?” the clone finished for him, his eyes wide.

Robin nodded.

“Don’t get me wrong. I love my parents! I would give my life for them without a second thought,” he added. “But, the good I can do as Robin… I don’t think I’d be able to give this up if my parents ordered it.”

Kon, slowly, carefully, wrapped his hand around the other teen’s, marveling at how impossibly small that hand looked against his own and wondering whether Clark thought the same whenever he and Batman held hands.

… but then he imagined Clark and Batman holding hands and realized how impossible that would be.

As he allowed his thumb to caress the back of Robin’s hand, he thought about all he had heard and the weight it must mean on his friend’s shoulders to hold such secret.

He didn’t have any parents of his own – unless he counted Clark who would freak out on him and well, Luthor who… Kon didn’t think it would be a good idea – but he had seen how important their parents were to the people like Nightwing and Kaldur, who had lost them, and how sometimes Wonder Girl would whisper soft: ‘I know, I love you too, Mom,’ into her phone the same way Robin had done earlier that day.

Parents were important then.

Therefore, Robin’s secret was important. Something really deep and personal and only a secret of the same caliber would only suffice in their exchange.

He did have a secret that in his mind weighted him down as much as Robin’s seemed to. But he had told himself he shouldn’t involve others in things that were just his own or…

He looked at Robin’s torn face.

He took a deep breath.

“M’gann and I broke things up because… because she tried to enter my mind without my permission and… change something,” he admitted, forcing the words to form in his lips, his lungs to give them sound and his hand from stop from clenching. “I felt betrayed and angry, like I wanted to hurt her, make her feel the same fain I felt, so before I could hurt her for real I…”

“You left for Kansas…” Robin whispered, his eyes so impossible wide the tips of his black eyelashes peeked over the rim of his glasses. “Kon, that’s… you should have told someone! I mean!”

“I didn’t want anyone to know,” he interrupted, his eyes lowering to their still entwined hands. “I wasn’t really hurt, not physically and…”

“She violated you!” Robin said ardently, his fingers now tightening against Kon’s. “For all intents and purposes she r-… she took advantage of you!”

“You need to keep this a secret!” Kon urged, noticing how Robin’s cheeks were a deep red and his heart was beating so fast, then how come his hands were shaking too?

Robin was, somehow, angry.

“But she could have hurt you!” he argued. “Did you tell anyone? Does Superman know? Martian Manhunter?”

“Clark knows… he was the one to take me to Kansas after all,” the clone soothed. “And M’gann told her uncle after she had that accident with Kaldur… she’s training to control the impulses now.”

Robin nodded, his cheeks losing some redness.

“What about your mind?” he asked, leaning forward so he could peer into Kon’s eyes, most likely. “Did you have a check up with another Mind Adept afterwards? Search for some left-over damage?”

Kon’s scowl deepened more than usual.

“I don’t like to have my mind prodded,” he said. “Makes me feel dirty.”

“But you could have been hurt!” Robin insisted. “I can’t believe this… Batman will…”

“Batman can’t know!” Kon interrupted again. “You promised, remember? This has to stay a secret between you and me.”

“But…”

“Please!”

Robin’s teeth sank on his bottom lip, the struggle between his friendship and the loyalty he had to Batman clear on his expressive – if ever hidden – face.

“I feel your secret is far more important than mine, “ he said at last.

Kon felt himself sag in relief, and he wondered how many emotions he was going to experience today and whether he could be able to prevent himself from lashing out should he have to.

“Your secret is really big too…” he tried to sooth again, his voice soft.

Robin smiled weakly, fishing in the pocket of his hoodie for a pen as his other hand released Kon’s and reached for one of the restaurant’s thin paper napkins.

Kon instantly missed the feeling of warmth of Robin’s skin on his own but remained  silent as he watched the other teen hesitate, then slowly scribble a single, precise line on his napkin and carefully fold it into a tiny square before laying it on the center of his outstretched palm.

“What’s this?” Kon asked, eyeing the piece of paper in his hand.

“Open it when you are alone,” Robin whispered, his cheeks once more red. “Batman is gonna kill me for this…”

“Kill is not the word I would use,” a voice called from behind them at the same time as each felt a powerful hand land on their shoulder and a shocked yelp – Bart’s – echoed around the suddenly too silent restaurant.

Kon could hear how Robin’s hear faltered for a millisecond as they turned around, only to find that the owner of such powerful hand was none other than Clark himself, dressed in full Superman regalia with a frown on his face – that he had obviously, to Kon at least, learned from Pa’ – showing the full extent of his disappointment while The Flash was dragging Bart away by the ear, Green Arrow was holding a struggling Arsenal and Black Canary was glaring at an apologetic Jaime, her arms crossed over her chest.

And, of course, behind the whole mayhem that had descended over them, was Batman.

No wonder the civilians had gone so quiet.

“We wanted to celebrate Robin’s birthday! We are the good guys!” Bart cried as his future grandfather apologized over and over to Batman.

The hold on Kon’s shoulder relaxed minutely, only enough for him to notice.

“Is that true, Kon-El?” Clark asked, his disappointed frown melting into a hopeful mix of awe, trepidation and pride.

Kon nodded.

“You know the rules, Robin,” Batman growled, making the boy flinch and then lower his head in shame.

“I know,” the boy replied. “I’m sorry.”

Kon felt something inside of him tighten at the tone of Robin’s voice, the defeat of his posture.

But it was Arsenal who, while still struggling with his former mentor, managed to turn the full center of his angry glaring at Batman himself.

“We heard Robin has shitty parents who wouldn’t be home on their own son’s birthday, and we came over to make sure he didn’t have to spend the day alone!” he spat visciously, loudly. “He had nothing to do with this!”

“But I didn’t kick you out of the city when I should have, Roy!” Robin protested, struggling against Clark’s massive hand. “I’m at fault too!”

All adults looked at eachother.

“Let’s go to HQ Robin,” Batman said with a sigh. “Nightwing has been looking for you all afternoon.”

Robin nodded, his face betraying his confusion as he was finally released.

“Nightwing?” he asked, tilting his head in that was that was so endearing it made Kon’s mouth twitch.

Batman nodded, his scowl awkward.

“Him and A have been preparing something for you all week.”

“A?” Robin blinked. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t know!”

Batman nodded and placed a hesitant hand – Kon never understood why Batman had no issue touching Nightwing when he was a kid but held himself back with his third Robin, it was something Clark never wanted to talk about – on his shoulder to guide him out.

Before they reached the door, though, Robin stopped himself, turned around and gave his friends a small, hesitant smile.

“Thank you so much, guys,” he said, fingering his keychain. “It was the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

Bart stopped his whining and straightened, saluting Robin with a big grin.

Jaime smiled as well, a little more apprehensive.

Arsenal sighed.

“Whenever you want, gorgeous!” he catcalled, prompting his former mentor to whack him in the back of the head as Batman growled and Robin squeaked in shock.

Kon growled as well, his mood souring.

Robin locked their gazes last.

“Thanks for everything, Kon,” he said softly.

He nodded.

“Thanks to you, Robin,” he said, his fingers still holding his secret piece of paper between them.

Robin nodded and Kon was sure he had something else to say, but Batman was pulling him away, his scowl set on Arsenal’s still leering face.

“Well, I’m taking Jaime home,” Canary said, shaking her head. “Care for a ride, Olie?”

Green Arrow nodded.

“Sure thing,” he said cheerfully, adjusting his grip so he was now wrapping a companionable arm around Arsenal’s shoulders. “And along the way you two can tell us how you managed to sneak into Gotham undetected.”

Flash shook his head.

“Let’s go too, Bart,” he said, waving goodbye to his companions as he sped away.

Only Clark and Kon remained then.

Silent.

“Did you really…” Clark started, clearing his throat. “Are Robin’s parents really… bad?”

Kon nodded.

“Robin says they are never around,” he said, shaking his head. “But he loves them a lot.”

“I bet,” Clark sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll take you back to Smallville now, you’ll spend some time without privileges, I’m afraid.”

“Okay…” Kon agreed, he didn’t really mind spending a few days in Kansas and he was sure Ma’ and Pa’ would understand his plight and let him leave without Clark really knowing – or minding, if the smile Clark was fighting was any indication.

The clone felt Superman’s arms around his own as the two of them rose in the air and yeah, he wasn’t alone as he would have wanted, but his curiosity was far too powerful – more than he would have liked to admit – and Clark’s attention was on the sky anyways.

He unfolded his little paper square.

… and promptly felt his world lose focus for a moment.

… because there, in Robin’s precise, neat handwriting was a single line of text, a single declaration that made everything inside of Kon drop and rise and burst in molten heat and colorful, manic energy.

He heard Clark curse – something he seldom did – as he released a bight beam of heat from his eyes and his hands tightened against his chest.

He didn’t care.

Robin’s message was still ringing in his head.

‘MY NAME IS TIMOTHY DRAKE. PLEASE CALL ME TIM.’

Kon felt his heart soar.

Chapter Text

Kon spent the first week of his punishment in a daze that seemed to keep his usually sullen disposition far more silent and a small smile curling his lips sporadically only to the utter shock of Ma’ and Pa’.

Clark had grumbled a little as he left him there, explaining the situation quickly and promising to return as soon as he managed to come up with an explanation and a few days of vacation back in Metropolis.

Kon had barely noticed.

“Are you alright, Kon dear?” Ma’ asked whenever she caught him over-feeding the chicken or simply plowing the fields with his bare hands in zigzagging, irregular patterns that he would need to redo if the Kent’s ever planned on harvesting that season. 

Kon had only nodded at her, unable to form a coherent response when there was only one word echoing in his head.

Tim, Tim, Tim, Timtimtimtimtimtim…

And the clone wasn’t as stupid as his team-mates were to believe, he could tell something was definitely different with the way Tim seemed to consume his every thought, the way he felt he could burst from the inside out whenever the other teen smiled at him.

It was, in a way, how he had once felt for M’gann, but also only comparable the way a broken piece of colored glass could resemble a carefully cut jewel. He could understand the similarities in the most basic, shallow way, but all comparisons died inside of him with a single utterance of Robin’s name.

Tim…

He smiled foolishly to himself as he allowed his body to land on the grass, his eyes set on the quickly darkening sky.

Tim’s eyes were that color.

Yet, somehow, the sky itself palled in comparison.

He felt his skin warm  up, especially as the scent of burning tobacco reached his nose and the sound of heavy footsteps on gravel finally became clear to his ears.

He sat up just as Pa’ let himself fall onto the grass by his side, his pipe in his hand and a fond smile on his aging face.

“You know,” he said as he took a drag. “Clark used to have that same dopey smile when he was around your age. Drove Martha up the walls he did.”

Kon blinked, trying to imagine Clark’s dopey smile reflected on his own face.

“Why was he… smiling?” he asked, feeling dread pooling in the pit of his stomach.

Was there something wrong with him?

Was he sick?

Pa’ chuckled.

“Her name was Lana,” he said with a shrug. “They were the best of friends when they were kids, Clark and her.”

Kon instantly perked up.

“Tim is my friend,” he said, leaning forwards. “He is my best friend.”

Pa’ laughed out loud this time, his eyes wrinkling with mirth.

“That Tim of yours is the boy you got in trouble for in Gotham?” he asked, one of his rough hands coming to rest on Kon’s shoulder gently. “He must be something else.”

Kon felt his skin burning.

“He is,” he said, resolute. “I like it when he smiles.”

“I bet you do, son,” the old man said, his voice wistful. “And I’m sure he smiles a lot when you are around?”

Kon nodded eagerly, his lips twitching upwards.

“He does and it makes me feel like I can fly just like Clark,” he paused. “But then Arsenal will show up and he will say something dirty and Tim will stop smiling and go fight with him. I hate him.”

Pa’ raised an eyebrow.

“Is Arsenal another one of your friends?” he asked.

Kon shook his head, his mood souring.

“No, not mine,” he replied, feeling how his shoulders slumped. “But he is Tim’s friend.”

“Ah,” Pa’ said, nodding. “Tim has more friends, then…”

“He does,” Kon assured. “I can’t blame them, he is the best friend ever, so it’s natural he is other people’s best friend too.”

“And you want to be Tim’s best friend then, just like he is yours.”

The teen nodded, his eyes wide. No wonder Clark decided this was a good place for him. Pa’ must have some mental powers of his own, if he could be so accurate.

He knew exactly how to put into words the main core of Kon’s conflicts.

“How… How do I become Tim’s best friend?”  he asked, feeling his throat clench around the words. “He is… nice. And sweet. He strokes Bart’s hair whenever he wants to cuddle and he speaks in other languages with Jaime when he is stressed. He even helped Wonder Girl with her homework once.”

Pa’ took another drag from his pipe, silent.

“It sounds like your friend has a lot of love to give,” he surmised with a smile. “And you want to monopolize his attention.”

Kon’s eyes widened.

“I don’t mean to…”

“Son,” Pa’ interrupted with a soft pat on his shoulder. “It’s not a bad thing to want to be special in someone’s eyes. It’s part of being human.”

The clone pouted.

Pa’s smile widened.

“I remember I was like that when I was young, myself,” he said. “I wanted to be Martha’s one and only.”

Kon swallowed loudly.

“How did you do it?” he asked, his hands clenching and unclenching in the grass so hard he thought he was about to part the earth beneath him in two. “How did you become Ma’s one and only?”

Pa’ laughed, shaking his head as if the memory itself was embarrassing and yet precious.

“I did many things, really, embarrassing things, stupid things, crazy things,” he began. “I made a fool of myself and then some, if only to probe to her I was serious about her.”

Kon closed his eyes then, allowing Pa’s comforting words to surround him, to drown him, to penetrate every single pore of his conscience as he absorbed the stories and learned from Pa’s advice.

Pa’ and Ma’ had sworn to be together until death did them apart and then maybe beyond that.

And that was exactly what he wanted for Tim and himself.

 

Chapter Text

The moment of truth came for Kon-El that same summer-warm week when he heard a small ‘foop!’ on the house’s driveway and Clark’s ridiculously loud footsteps on the gravel approach the backyard and, consequently, the small kitchen where Ma’ had decided he should spend is ‘weekend of unending punishment and discipline’ as she decided to call it.

He guessed Clark had called ahead that morning and the Kents decided to make him think he had been disciplined as he expected.

He wasn’t sure what to say, and therefore, he said nothing.

“Ah, here you are!” Clark exclaimed with a bright smile as he poked his head inside the room, his glassed precariously perched on his nose, his shirt stretching tightly over his muscles, his hair in disarray.

Miss Lane was obviously trying to dress him up again.

“I am,” Kon nodded, still unable to pick up the social cues that Clark seemed so comfortable with.

The older man winced for a millisecond before sighing and giving his younger clone a small smile of fond exasperation.

“Pa’ told me you’ve been distracted lately,” he said as he pulled out a chair and patted the back of it so Kon knew he was expected to sit. “And I saw the way you plowed the fields.”

Kon felt his cheeks flush.

“I… I am distracted, yes,” he admitted, his eyes downcast as he sat down before his mentor. “Pa’ told me it was normal, though, that you had been distracted at my age too.”

He heard, more than saw, Clark’s awkward intake of breath and there was suddenly another chair in front of his own and a warm hand on his knee.

“So that’s what this is about,” he said finally, warmth and something Kon couldn’t actually place in his voice. “No wonder.”

“I’m sorry,” Kon whispered, his lips pursed, his eyes still downcast.

Clark shook his head.

“Ma’ said she wants to bake another pie…” he said, his pant patting his knee. “Help me peel the apples?”

Kon raised his eyes, clearly confused.

“The apples explode in my hands,” he said, tilting his head. “She usually doesn’t let me handle them.”

Clark’s smile grew warmer still, bright like the sun.

“I’ll teach you how to hold them.”

And so, Kon found himself a few hours later covered in apple mush and skin, his cheeks flushed a deep red and scorch marks all over the once pristine kitchen floor.

Ma’ was going to kill them.

At least the apple had stopped imploding on him by the two hour mark and now he could hold the knife without bending the handle, and sure, Clark had laughed his ass at him – the traitor – but he was a patient teacher and an encouraging friend.

Kon liked to imagine this was what it felt like to have a dad.

He smiled to himself.

No wonder Tim was so worried about his parents finding out about his hero-ing (as Bart called it) if having a dad felt this good, he wouldn’t want them hurt either.

The teen blinked.

Did Bart miss his Dad then? Because he had one, for sure – even if the man was currently a fetus inside The Flash’s wife.

… was that why the speedster was so tactile all the time? He was after all a five year old - Tim said so, he had to be right - and all alone. And yes, Kon was only six years old himself, but he was pulled out of the tube with a teenager’s mind, and Bart was far too childish and…

He felt bad for the boy.

Clark handed him another apple, his fingers carefully depositing the fruit in his outstretched hand.

Kon instantly started to peel, his teeth sinking onto his bottom lip.

He guessed he could share Tim’s affections with Bart then, because Kon had a dad – of sorts – in Clark and Bart was all alone and he was older, so he had to be the mature one that could actually share Tim’s amazing brand of comfort with him.

Tim would most likely agree with his reasoning.

Even be proud of him.

And also, his mind supplied as he handed the now peeled apple back to Clark for him to chop into small pieces, Bart didn’t monopolize Tim’s attention like Kon would fear. He spent most of his time with Jaime, hanging from Jaime’s back and holding onto Jaime’s hand.

He blinked.

Did that mean…

“Clark?” Kon asked, looking up from his work as his mentor took another apple to peel.

“Hm?” Clark asked, not looking up himself.

“What happens when a boy likes to be with another boy more than his best friend?”

Clark shook his head, his lips holding an amused smile.

“That would mean the boy is a homose-…”

The two of them were instantly showered in apple pieces when Clark’s hand tightened over his handy-work.

“W-what?!” the older man gapped.

Kon wiped the mess from his cheek with a hand, his scowl returning.

“What happens when a boy likes to be with another boy more than his best friend?” he asked once more, not liking the way the apple juice was clinging to his shirt.  

“Kon…” Clark said, his eyes wide and his cheeks oddly coloring a deep red. “Is this… about Tim?”

Kon’s scowl lessened as he nodded.

At least Clark was perceptive.

It didn’t make sense to him, how Bart would prefer Jaime’s company to Tim’s, all things considered. Tim was smarter than Jaime, he was far more patient and definitely more comforting. His eyes were a more beautiful shade and his hands slender, longer.

Also Tim was a better friend and a better confidant than Jaime – Kon was sure Jaime didn’t know Bart’s real age, or he wouldn’t treat him like he did – and knew about loss and family better than Jaime ever would.

All in all, Tim was a better option than Jaime for Bart to want to spend time with.

Tim was the better choice.

So, why would Bart choose to spend his time with Jaime then?

Clark seemed to be struggling with his answer, struggling with how to organize his thoughts and Kon felt even more ratified by his struggles. Maybe Clark didn’t understand it himself? Maybe Bart was doing something in the wrong and Clark felt his role as Superman was to guide him to seek Tim out more?

It would mean Kon would have to share Tim more and… he didn’t really like that.

Finally, Clark took a deep breath, his hands trembling, his face on fire.

He coughed a little.

“Kon,” he began awkwardly. “You know what happens when a man and a woman really like eachother, right?”

Kon blinked.

“You mean, how they copulate in order to reproduce?” He asked, tilting his head. What did that have to do with anything? “I was already educated in basic human reproduction habits back in Cadmus.”

Clark’s red cheeks started turning a little bit… purple-ish.

He nodded.

Kon was seriously confused now.

“Well, sometimes,” Clark coughed. “Sometimes a man realizes he likes another man the same way, that he loves that other man the same way a man can love a woman.”

“But they would not be able to copulate and reproduce,” Kon interrupted, his lips pursed stubbornly. “Wouldn’t that be illogical?”

Clark seemed to struggle even more with his questions now, considering the way he was completely purple now.

“B-but… well… reproduction is not the main goal of c-cop… umm… se… that!” he said, his voice breaking over and over again. “I guess it’s more about… loving someone and… ah… wanting to spend the rest of your life with that person…”

Kon tilted his head.

“So, men who love other men don’t copulate?”

“Stop saying c-copu—that!” Clark interrupted, his hands reaching to squeeze Kon’s violently.

Kon’s eyes widened.

“Is it a bad word?”  he asked. Ma’ had told him over and over to be respectful of his family, and Clark being his sorta-sometimes-kinda dad, well, he was the epitome of family.

Clark shook his head.

“It’s… not… but… it’s something really personal,” he said, clearing his throat. “The point is, Kon, that even if there is no reproduction, men and women sometimes come to love people of their own gender and it’s something perfectly okay, something natural, okay?”

Kon nodded, he understood the point, and of course he didn’t see anything wrong with a man wanting to love another man, was Clark afraid he would?

Still he didn’t see how the whole explanation pertained to his question.

Unless…

“Is it more important than a best friend? This love?”  he asked, tilting his head, eyes locked with Clark’s. “Is that why a boy would want to spend more time with another boy?”

Clark’s shoulders slumped, relief evident in every inch of his expressive face.

“Yes! Think of it as…” he hesitated for a moment, before his blue eyes lit up. “Think of it like the bond your friends Wally and Artemis had?”

And suddenly Kon understood.

Wally and Artemis had the closest of bonds, they were always together, they shared an intimacy that no one else shared with them, and he knew for a fact Artemis was not Wally’s best friend, that was Nightwing, had always been Nightwing.

So, even if Tim was a better friend than Jaime, a better human than Jaime, Bart would rather spend time with him because…

Bart and Jaime were a couple like Wally and Artemis?

It made sense then.

“I get it now,” he said, noting with satisfaction how Clark seemed to relax at once, and how his smile returned to his face. “My Cadmus’ education didn’t cover such possibility, but it makes sense.”

“Good,” Clark said awkwardly, a piece of apple still stuck to his forehead.

They lapsed into silence once more as Kon took another apple from the bag and started peeling it, completely focusing on his strength and how much pressure he put on the delicate fruit.

Clark did the same, his own hands still a little shaky.

A few minutes passed.

“Kon-El?” Clark said suddenly, his eyes misty, worried.

Kon looked up, an eyebrow raised.

Clark shuffled a little in his chair, clearly uncomfortable yet determined to say his piece.

“I- I just want you to know that…” he swallowed thickly. “I want you to know that homosexuality is perfectly okay and no one should ever judge another if they decide that… well…”

“I know,” Kon said, his head tilting to the side once more.

“And Ma’ and Pa’ think the same, ok?” Clark continued, his eagerness showing.

“Okay,” Kon nodded, his lips pursed in confusion.

Clark sighed in relief, his smile bright.

“I just wanted you to know,” he said, suddenly mindless of the tension he himself had raised in the room.

“I know now,” Kon nodded again, eyes going back to his apple. “Thanks, Clark.”

Clark chuckled.

“You are welcome, kid,” he said, and went back to peeling.

Kon’s eyes widened.

“Oh, by the way,” he prompted, stopping on his work now that he remembered something he had been meaning to ask Clark. “I was wondering if it was okay for me to go and see a Mind Adept? I wanted to get checked, see if my mind is okay?”

Clark’s hand clenched around his apple once again, juice and mush and peelings flying everywhere.

“What?!”

Kon blinked at him.

“Well, Tim said it would be a good idea for me to get checked,” he explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Tim… suggested it?” Clark asked, disbelief clear in his voice. Disbelief and something really akin to anger, really, something that Kon wasn’t sure he liked.

“Yes,” he said simply. “I told him what happened with M… to me and he insisted I should get checked, see if there was no leftover damage. I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

Clark’s shoulders slumped, his eyes filling with understanding and a little bit of eagerness.

“Oh, I see,” he whispered. “Ah, I mean! Sure, I can ask if someone can see you. I was actually waiting for you to ask me and…”

He swallowed.

“I’m glad Tim suggested it,” he finished with his usual awkward smile. He had been wearing that smile a lot around Kon lately.

Maybe it was the heat?

Kon nodded.

“Tim is super intelligent,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “And he is really observant. If he says I should get checked I think he means it for my own good, right?”

“Of course,” Clark agreed, as if it there was something he knew that Kon didn’t, something amusing and terribly sweet. “I’m sure Tim only has your best interest at heart.”

Kon smiled a little himself.

“Yes, he is my best friend.”

Clark wanted to say something more, Kon was sure, and he would have liked to know what it was, but they were both startled into pulverizing their respective apples with their hands by the shrieking of a casserole crashing onto the linoleum floor and Ma’s voice calling:

“Oh my goodness! What happened here!” she said in dismay. “My apples! Oh, dear! My FLOOR!”

“Ma’!” Clark said quickly, standing up and waving his mush incrusted hands in the air. “It’s not like it seems! Kon-El and I…”

“Oh no!” Ma’ cried. “Now I won’t have enough apples to bake a pie for that poor boy!”

 “But-!”

 “Tim won’t get his pie?” Kon said in disappointment, his eyes glowing. “But I promised him…”

Clark yelped, his hands quickly grasping Kon’s sticky shoulders and dragging him to the backyard as fast as he could without actually crashing through the walls.

“You two will be replacing the flooring, Clark!” Ma’ bellowed from the window. “And don’t believe for a second I cannot pull you over my knee anymore, young man!”

Kon hung from Clark’s arms – as it was becoming his default whenever he became too upset.

Clark simply sighed and continued to mutter under his breath about how easy Bruce – whoever that was – made it all look so much easier than this.

 

Chapter Text

Apparently, Clark had been far more eager to get Kon checked than Kon had previously assumed, because as soon as they were done cleaning up Ma's kitchen and changing the floors into brand-new, fire retardant tiles - that Ma' had eyed for just a moment before instructing Clark to thank 'that sweet Bruce boy' for her - he was back in Clark's arms and on his way to the mystical magical lair of Madame Xanadu.

… that honestly wasn’t as impressive as he had once imagined, considering it mostly looked like a small corner-shop in the middle of a city.

Clark had suggested they meet with Dr. Fate at first, him being a more active member of the League and a trusted ally, but Kon had quickly expressed his hesitation, since Dr. Fate had once been Zatanna's dad and he didn't feel he'd be able to concentrate around the man knowing he was prisoner of whatever entity the helmet of Fate held.

Not since he was finally coming onto the whole ‘I have a dad too now’ idea and it, somehow, made him empathize with his former team mate.

Clark had rubbed at the back of his neck, visibly uncomfortable at the reminder, before explaining that there was another alternative but that he would have to be very respectful and never try to mention Madame Xanadu’s actual age.

"Ah, I knew you would come to me, dear Kon son of El." Madame greeted with a smile, ushering Kon and Clark in with a small wave of her hand. "Tea?"

Kon proceeded to ignore the way Clark politely accepted and explained their situation to Xanadu, mostly entertaining himself with the mess that was Madame's parlor, a mix of silks and wools and colors that seemed to blend with the shadows and threaten to swallow him whole.

Maybe Dr. Fate wouldn't have been as bad an option?

"Oh, cease such treacherous thoughts, youngest El!" Madame Xanadu scolded as she draped herself dramatically on her chair. "There is no way that old goat would be able to give you a gift such as the one I have in store for you."

Kon blinked, his cheeks coloring - not as red as Clark's, at the very least, but red nonetheless - as he realized that, of course a mind adept would be able to read his thoughts.

He shifted uncomfortably.

"Oh, none of that, dearest," she said, shaking her head fondly. "I am not as callous as the Martians in my ventures and the comparison, though subconscious, still hurts. I can only interpret thoughts that are directed or intrinsically about me."

Clark laid a careful hand on his shoulder, his support clear.

Kon nodded.

"I'm sorry?" He said, approaching Madame Xanadu.

She smiled at him, ruby red lips curling fondly.

"As I said, do not fret, young El," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "It will be my honor to touch a fated mind such as your own."

"A… fated mind, Madame?" Clark said, his brows furrowing.

Madame's eyes glinted preternaturally.

"I call your son fated because that is what he is, Superman," she replied simply, her hand reaching to hold Kon's and rest it over her table, forcing the teen to sit on a plush chair in front of her. "The pull of destiny is strong in your blood, but particularly the strongest in your child. You should consider yourselves blessed."

"Blessed..." Clark parroted.

"Destiny?" Kon asked, confused. "I'm a clone, a copy. I don't think I have much destiny to speak of..."

"Nonsense," Madame said, her smile gentle. "All souls have a destiny, young one."

Clark coughed uncomfortably.

"Madame, while I appreciate the goodwill towards Superboy I must ask that you..."

"Check his mind for lingering damage, I know," she interrupted, rolling her eyes. "I'm in the process right now, Superman, no need to be rude. I was merely making small talk so the young man would not be bored."

Clark flushed again.

Kon felt himself smile, while her words were confusing, he found he was starting to like Madame Xanadu’s directness, she reminded him of Ma’ a little.

"Everything okay?" he asked, if only to spare his mentor/sorta-dad further embarrassment.

"Everything seems to be in order so far," Xanadu assured. "There is some sign of struggle, most likely from when you forced that girl from your mind, but so far it seems to be healing nicely. You have quite a strong mental protection."

Kon nodded, feeling a sort of relief he hadn't been aware he was in need of.

"But… Kon-El will be okay?" Clark hesitated, his smile not as bright. "Is there a way to… protect him from… further intrusions?"

Xanadu shook her head, her eyes fond.

“I see you have considered this issue more than your peers imagined, Superman,” she said, her fingers tracing the lines on the palm of Kon’s hand. “Do not fret for your child, my friend. The tides of fate have entwined in the fabric of the universe in his favor. He shall not suffer unnecessarily.”

"Fate..." Kon trailed off. "Fate wanted her to hurt me?"

"Oh, no no no!" Xanadu said quickly, her eyes wide in horror. "Nothing as terrible as that, dear boy, oh no."

Clark’s hand on his shoulder tensed, and Kon could tell he was quickly losing his legendary patience. Kon felt... safe, with that hand on him.

"The tendrils of fate are entwined yet mobile, Kon-El," Xanadu tried to explain. “Yes, there will be trials in your path, I can tell, but all those falls will only lead to better things, all the times you feel yourself fail will be times when opportunity and fortune will appear before you.”

Kon felt he could understand a little. Apparently it was a part of his fate that  M'gann would betray him, to hurt him, it was his fate that had ruined his life.

Yet that same fate, that same hurt had been the trigger that allowed him and Clark to become close, had allowed him to meet Ma' and Pa'. To find a home, and a family and people he could feel he could call friends…

… Tim.

He swallowed.

Madame Xanadu let out a soft sigh, both hands reaching to cradle Kon's.

"You honestly don't know how blessed you are, you poor boy," she whispered. “I feel I am breaching a taboo of some sort by giving you this knowledge, but…”

Her eyes grew fierce, her hands tight.

"You are what we call a Universal Constant. In every universe of the multiverse, there is a Kon-El in one way or another,” she said finally, her lips quirking. “I can see how the threads that connect you to the source of the multiverse are kind, how they want your happiness over all things, which is why I want to believe the keep you so close to those who will always support you.”

Clark's hand on his shoulder relaxed a little.

"People… constant… Always?" he asked, shocked.

Xanadu raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Always, Superman," she simpered. "If there is a Superboy in any universe, he will have contact with a version of you, he will meet your circles and find a parental figure among them.”

Xanadu’s hands on Kon’s grew tender again.

“By all the gods, the universe has even paired you off with that little Robin boy in every universe,” she joked.

Kon sat straighter in his chair.

"Robin and I?" he asked, his voice gaining eagerness. "We are always together?"

Xanadu nodded.

"Well, yes," she said. "From all the universes I've glimpsed upon, if there is a young man who can be identified as the Superboy, he and Robin are always together... Always a clone of the Superman, always the same young Robin."

"Can I see?" Kon interrupted, his eyes wide, his hand, still enveloped by Madame Xanadu, trembled.

Superman opened his mouth, clearly unsure.

The woman smiled again.

"If you wish to," she nodded. “It will provide a good distraction while I apply some more protection to your mental shields, if only for your father’s peace of mind. Just remember that you are nothing but an observer. You will not be able to touch, you will not be heard or see..."

"Yes, I understand."

Clark definitely had something to say about the whole ordeal, about universe jumping and the horrors that Kon-El might encounter.

However, before he could offer a warning, a rebuttal, a nervous ‘I am not Kon-El’s father!’, before he could even utter Kon's name, Madame Xanadu had already waved her fingers in the air, sparkles dancing between her fingertips, and the clone was enveloped by a warm, white light.

When he was finally able to open his eyes he was standing in a beach, the wind was cool and the weather perfect for what his former team called a ‘day off exercise’.

Bart ran past him, through him, young and cheerful and a little bit deranged, his feet invisible with the speed he was using, his torso pale and skinny in his ridiculous swimming shorts.

A curvy blond haired girl in a bikini – a little girl, what was she? Fourteen? -  ran after him, her eyes wide as she examined the path he was leaving behind on the sand.

“He’s actually doing it!” she gasped. “He’s making glass!”

“No way!” another girl, also so small and innocent, also a blond, said, as she approached as well, her hand reaching for the melting sand. “You’re right, Cissy! Guys! Check this out!”

Kon followed her line of sight, her waving arm and found himself staring…

At himself.

His same blue eyes, his same black hair, though this Kon’s was longer, curly, it made him wonder if his own hair would curl if he let it grow, the same shape of his chin - rounder than Clark’s, pointier than Luthor’s, - this him even had pierced the same ear Kon had, only this one was wearing a gold ring on it.

Also, he was a lot younger than Kon himself, a lot shorter, skinnier.

“Way! I win, bro!” his younger, skinnier self cackled, his grin wide, his eyes light as he floated – he floated, he could actually fly – over another small teen in a hoodie and shorts who was busily typing on a laptop, his dark hair and dark sunglasses covering most of his round face.

Kon felt his heart skip a beat.

Tim looked up at the young Superboy, his eyes clear in their disbelief.

“I don’t remember ever betting with you,” he said teasingly. “Especially over something like Bart’s speed.”

Kon’s other self pouted, his arms reaching to wrap around Tim’s neck.

“What? Come on!” he whined. “You said you’d come to the beach with us if Bart could melt the sand with his feet!”

“And here I am, am I not?” Tim replied, shaking his head.

“No? You are sitting under a stupid umbrella like one of those old movie ladies while we have fun!” Younger Superboy scowled. “At least take your hoodie off and try to tan away all the dreadful bat paleness, bro! Let the girls see your bodacious buff!”

Tim stared at his younger self with a raised eyebrow, despite the fondness in his eyes.

Superboy reacted fast then, faster and with more assurance than Kon felt he would ever be able to achieve – yes, Kon was a little jealous of this younger, flying, far more confident counterpart of his – and he wrapped Tim in his arms, holding him tight, hiding his face on Tim’s neck as if to keep himself strong with the sound of Tim’s quickening pulse.

“I’m glad you could come, bro,”

Tim’s smile was small, shy, the same smile Kon’s Tim had around him.

His hands covered Superboy’s.

“Yeah,” he said, his forehead resting on top of Superboy’s hair. “Thanks.”

Madame Xanadu rested a hand on Kon’s shoulder, smiling at him, pulling him from the scene.

“Ready for another jump?”  she asked, her eyes sparkling with her power.

Kon nodded, muted, unsure.

This alternate version of him and Tim seemed to be the best of friends, the way they seemed to understand eachother, how comforted Tim seemed to be while in this Superboy’s arms…

… then again, this Superboy was confident, loud, a complete opposite of Kon himself.

This Superboy could fly while he could not.

He swallowed, wondering if he would be adequate to make his Tim smile like that.

A new flash of light blinded him.

This time there was an explosion, by the time he came to.

What looked like humanoid-looking robots were swarming around a group of teenagers.

Bart was there, once again, as was the blond girl Kon was starting to identify as Wonder Girl though her costume looked far too revealing for his tastes… a lot uncomfortable too.

And there, right in the middle of the group… were Tim and Superboy.

A little bit older than himself and Kon’s Tim, a little bit more jagged, battle worn, dirty.

“What now?” Superboy hissed, his back to Tim, his eyes glinting red. “You are the brains here, kid.”

“Shut up, and don’t call me that, I’m way older than you.” Tim hissed back. “I need you to float ten feet above keeping your body horizontal and your hands outstretched.”

“What?” Superboy yelled, eyes wide.

“Stop flirting and start acting,” Wonder Girl snapped,– yeah, Kon was definitely sure this was Wonder Girl – her lasso snapping like a whip.

 “Do it!” Tim protested at the same time as Superboy growled: “Red’s not my type.”

Kon watched them fight, all coordinated but rough at the edges, they reminded him of the way his former team – the team with Nightwing and Wally and Artemis and… M’gann – used to fight, how they would sometimes turn back to make sure the others would still be behind them, all okay.

Superboy finally did as told, his eyes darting back and forth nervously, his muscles tensing, his shoulders squared.

Tim looked at Bart, his smile crooked, sad, before the other teen grabbed him by the waist and started spinning, faster and faster, slowly releasing him until the smaller teen was flying in the air, his red and black uniform bright under the sun and the beams of lasers.

Then… he was falling.

“Red!” Wonder Girl cried in shock.

Superboy managed to look startled for just a second before Tim’s foot was on his head, his hands grasping Superboy’s outstretched ones to balance himself, no, to propel himself over the hordes of robots and into an innocuous-looking machine innocently humming behind a rock.

With a cry of excitement – adrenaline and quick-wit and a little cockiness Kon imagined would look in his Tim’s younger face – he plunged a batarang on the thing, shielding his eyes from the sparks that flew as the machine let out a pitiful shriek before falling completely silent.

… just as the robots attacking his teams seemed to fall to the ground, marionettes with their strings cut.

“Good one, Red!” Bart yelled, excitement making him vibrate.

“Phew, about time!” Wonder Girl huffed, arms crossing over her chest.

“You used me as leverage!” Superboy scowled, his eyes wide. “What the fuck!?”

“Calm down, amigo!” a teen in purple that was definitely not Jaime laughed, wrapping his arms around Tim as the other teen seemed to sway in place, ready to fall unconscious. “You okay, cariño?”

“Yeah, just tired,” Tim assured, a hand on the teen-in-purple’s arm. “We should probably go before the army gets here? Let them do the clean up?”

Wonder Girl, Bart and teen-in-purple laughed, nodding their agreement.

None noticed the way Superboy’s eyes narrowed, his cheeks flushed, he was not angry, Kon could tell, especially considering the way his eyes zeroed in the way teen-in-purple’s arms seemed to fit so snugly around Tim’s waist, the way the other teen seemed comfortable with such demonstrations of affection.

“He was jealous,” Kon told Madame Xanadu when she appeared by his side. “He was jealous that someone had Tim in their arms.”

“He was,” Madame agreed. “Some versions of you are… not as honest as one would appreciate, not even to themselves.”

Kon nodded, feeling an immense sadness at this counterpart of his. Yes, this other version of him could fly, and yes, he obviously had a confidence in him that Kon did not have, just like the previous one, but his bond with Tim, the thing that made them just them was not there.

Not for lack of wanting, obviously, but maybe circumstances had kept them from being better friends?

Poor him of that world.

Xanadu sighed, petting his hair.

“Come on, we’ll do a lightning round now, some universes are weirder than others but not much detail for you to see,” she said, waving her hands.

Once more, there was the light.

He found himself first, this time, flying through the streets of Metropolis – another him that could fly, it seemed – doing his best to keep up with a figure jumping from rooftop to rooftop, his eyes narrowed against the night air, his lips pulled down into a frown.

“Stop!” he yelled.

“What if I like to be chased down by handsome young things like yourself?” the figure teased, voice throaty, smooth yet young.

Kon finally could distinguish the black leather encasing the man – yeah, it was a man, a teen – the way his hips seemed to undulate with every step, how his eyes were heavy lidded, seductive.

“Just give me what you took and I’ll forget we ever saw eachother,” Superboy tried again, finally catching up with him, reaching with a hand to grasp at his arm.

The other teen turned, his smile wide, his eyes piercing blue behind his goggles.

Kon’s eyes widened.

Tim?

“Now where would be the fun in that?” he asked, clawed fingers running over the S on Kon’s chest.

“You are breaking the law,” Superboy said nervously. “If you came with me and …”

“Joined your little superhero squad?” Tim interrupted, purring. “If Mama Cat didn’t fall for The Bat’s speech, what makes you think I would fall for yours? I’m a free kitty, Superboy, I can’t be tamed.”

“Catlad,” Superboy growled, his cheeks a bright red.

“Oh, I wish I could take you with me…” Tim grinned, eyes wicked, the back of his fingers caressing Superboy’s cheekbones. “Alas, a shame we are in opposite sides of the night, isn’t it?”

“Wha-“ Kon was sure Superboy had a plan, something to say to maybe sway Tim to his side. However Tim was faster, his hands reaching for the belt resting low on his hips, his lips reaching to peck Superboy’s own and, suddenly, they were enveloped by a thick, purplish smoke that made Superboy choke and take a step back, coughing all the while.

By the time he was able to see again, breathe normally again…

… Catlad, Tim, was gone.

Superboy raised a trembling hand to his lips.

“Damn it,” he whispered.

Another flash of light.  

Kon found this version of himself the strangest, back in his long-ish, fluffy curly hair and a leather jacket. The S on his chest, however, was replaced by a strange spider, he was swinging from what appeared to be webs from building to building, his cocky smile seemed to fit his younger face.

By his side, using the usual grapple hook Kon had grown used to seen Tim use, was Robin.

A girl Robin with pink lips and curled eyelashes.

“Come on, babe!” he said against the wind, making the girl raise an unimpressed eyebrow. “One chance and I’ll prove to you I can be worth your time.”

Girl Robin shook her head, her short hair falling into her eyes.

“You do realize my mentor will kick your ass if he sees you here?” she asked, her tone sarcastic, biting, the kind of tone Tim used with Roy.

“Not if I’m trying to ask his baby girl out, right?” this Superboy – spiderboy? – asked back, performing an impressive somersault before catching up to her again.

Robin laughed.

“You are definitely out of your league, kid,” she said, still giggling. “Tell you what, help me catch clayface over there and then you can invite me a soda.”

Kon’s counterpart shrugged.

“Sounds good to me,” he agreed.

The two of them jumped into the fight.

Another flash of light.  

There was a statue of Kon in this universe, massive and golden, his hand pointing out to the horizon, a beacon for future generations.

Tim was there too, sitting on his golden shoulder, resting his forehead on Superboy’s massive cheek.

His mask wet.

“I know I should be moving on,” he whispered, his voice broken, hoarse. “You wouldn’t want me to be like this but…”

A gauntled hand reached to caress the bronze before him, a tear slid down an ivory cheek.

“I don’t think I can keep going,” Tim finally confessed with a soft sob. “Not without you, Kon.”

Kon watched impotently as Tim finally allowed himself to cry, whispering his name over and over, barely holding onto his voice as if not to rouse the other teens still inside the building behind them.

The inscription on the statue answered whatever questions the clone would have.

‘Superboy’ , it read. ‘Brave Hero, Best Friend, Hope.’ And a date, most likely the date of his demise.

Kon felt his heart clench.

Another flash of light.  

This time, he was inside a rundown apartment in what appeared to be a bad part of Gotham if the police cars passing by his window were any indication, the stench of alcohol and sweat and things Kon didn’t want to mention reached his nose.

He was there, well, the other him was there, stubbled and red-eyed, dirty and pale.

Knees folded to his chest, arms around his legs, face partially hidden by a pillow on the floor.

The phone to his left rang without being answered once, twice, three times, before going straight to voicemail.

“This is Tim Drake-Wayne,” the machine said cheerfully. Kon’s heart skipped a beat, at the same time as his counterpart let out a small sob. “If you have this number you know I am most likely busy with my--- ah, night job, please leave your message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

Kon’s counterpart hid his face in the pillow for a moment.

“Kon-El, this is Kal-El,” called Clark’s voice from the phone. “I know you are there, son. Please, pick up.”

Kon’s counterpart shook his head, his eyes watering until there were fresh tears running down his skin.

“I know you miss Tim, Kon-El, believe me, I understand but…” Clark seemed to hesitate, his voice muted, defeated in was Kon had never heard it before. “But you can’t do this to yourself! Tim would have never wanted you to do this, he was your friend and I’m sure he would have-“

“He was more than that! He was my everything!” Kon’s counterpart finally cried, his eyes narrowed, a red beam of energy shooting from them and destroying the answering machine and the phone.

His eyes widened.

“Oh no,” he whimpered, standing up a little. “No, that was Tim’s recording, that was his voice.”

Kon could finally see that, clutched to his chest, was Tim’s red and black shirt, the golden R peeling in places, stained red and brown with blood.

He didn’t have to ask to know exactly what was happening in this universe.

He closed his eyes.

Another flash of light.  

Kon instantly spotted Tim, this new universe’s Tim, his back ramrod straight, his pose proud, a new sort of red-and-black uniform that had a cowl covering his face.

He seemed deep in thought.

“Why so happy?” Kon’s counterpart – and exact copy of him, this time, down to the black shirt and jeans – “Let me guess… sale on leather?”

Tim did not answer, he seemed frozen in shock.

“You are going to get matching chaps? Is that is?” his counterpart continued, finally landing before his friend, blinking. “Tim?”

Tim didn’t move.

“Hello?” he asked, waving a hand before the other teen’s eyes. “Okay, now you are creeping me out. Will you say…”

Tim finally reacted, a beautiful, wide smile curling his lips as he launched himself at Superboy, wrapping his arms around him, his head resting on top of his heart.

“… Something?” Superboy asked, eyes wide. His body tense and unsure what to do, his cheeks flushed.  “Tim? Buddy? If you are trying to be all dark and grim now, this isn’t going to help.”

“You are alive!” Tim cried, his voice soft, overcome with emotions. “You were dead, Bart was dead. You don’t know what that was like and now you are back.”  

Kon could tell his counterpart had a witty come back to that, a muttered “I know, so do you…” but Tim was pulling his cowl back – he was older than Kon’s Tim, his hair a little longer, framing his face, accentuating his loveliness – his eyes red-rimmed, hopeful, bluer than ever.

Superboy swallowed.

“I’m sorry I had to go,” he whispered, his hand cupping Tim’s cheek with infinite tenderness.

Tim stared at him, his teeth sinking onto his bottom lip for a moment.

“Don’t do it again,” he whispered. “I don’t think I’m strong enough for a second time. I would follow you if it ever happened.”

Superboy finally wrapped his arms around Tim, cradling him impossibly closer, trying to protect him for the world with his presence alone.

“Never,” he promised, voice hesitant, knowing it was a promise none of them were ever sure they could keep. “I won’t ever leave you again.”

They locked gazes for a moment, the silence of the night enveloping them.

Their lips met in half sweetness, half desperation, Kon’s counterpart’s hands reaching to play with Tim’s hair, Tim’s hands resting on top of Kon’s chest, feeling his heartbeat, reassuring himself.

Kon watched, his eyes wide, as if the idea that these two counterparts of theirs could be more, would be more than friends, had never occurred to him.

With a blink, he was back inside Madame Xanadu’s parlor, Clark’s hand on his shoulder tense as he shook him, trying to get his attention.

“What happened to him?!” he asked, eyes accusingly on the woman who was staring at him as well, her own eyes wide.

“I think I showed him possibilities he had not considered himself,” she said, her cheeks pink.

“Kon-El?” Clark asked again, his worry evident on his face.

Kon turned to him, his cheeks pink.

“Tim and I… we were…” he fell silent. “He and I…”

Clark’s shoulders slumped.

“Oh,” he whispered, his own eyes widening.

Madame Xanadu shrugged, composing herself.

“It’s usually what happens when there is a universal constant,” she explained. “Those entwined in the constant tend to be, well, constant.”

“I… I see,” Clark agreed, slowly approaching the woman and muttering his thanks to her, shaking her hand hesitantly and inquiring about the protections she had been waving into Kon’s mind as he enjoyed his… glimpses.

Kon didn’t pay any attention to them, his mind slowly processing all that he had witnessed.

Tim and he... they were more than the best of friends, if the other universes were to be believed.

They were soulmates.

 

Chapter Text

Now that Kon-El had finally found a place in the world, everything seemed far too different. The water tasted sweeter, the air smelled something fierce and there was a spring on his steps as he finally made his way into Mount Justice, a small smile twisting his lips.

Wonder Girl was sitting on the floor by the coffee table, a pen balanced on the bow of her upper lip, face resting on her hands as she stared blankly ahead. To her right, Arsenal was furiously taking notes on a small tablet, brows furrowed, teeth sunk onto his bottom lip, to his right, was Jaime, face eager in interest, eyes eager, a book opened before him.

Before the three, speaking a thousand words per second, was Bart, happily writing equation after equation on a window with a red marker, his beaming smile at full force as he tried to recite complex math to his teammates.

Kon blinked.

"Woah, woah, woah!" Arsenal snapped, metal hand slamming against the table. "Slow down!"

"I'm gonna die!" Wonder Girl nodded in agreement, hands nervously clutching at her long blond hair.

“It’s not that hard!” Bart pouted, eyeing the wall full of numbers he had written so far. “I mean, this is so ancient it’s almost painful.”

"You two are so dramatic, dude," Jaime shrugged, only to earn the glares of his two companions. 

"You..." Wonder Girl snapped, eyes narrowed. "... are a monster and you will never be loved!"

"Ouch," Jaime laughed. "Don't be like that! I'd be the same as you if it wasn't for Robin."

Arsenal's eyes widened.

"You got Baby Bird to tutor you?" He hissed. "How?!"

Jaime blinked back.

"I... asked?"

 Like a pack of vicious animals both teen looked at eachother, until they seemed to reach an agreement, their lips parting wickedly, hungrily...

"No way..." Tim's voice cut through the tense silence as he walked towards them, eyes on the screen of his laptop, lips pursed in thought. "Jaime wanted help studying for an upcoming test, not for me to help him finish his already overdue homework."

Wonder Girl gapped.

"How did you-"

Jaime placed a hand on her shoulder, eyes grim.

Bart giggled behind his hand, practically vibrating with glee as he joined Robin on the couch, his head automatically landing on the other teen’s shoulder.

“He’s Robin,” Bart and Jaime said in unison. “He always knows.”

Wonder Girl and Arsenal threw their hands in the air, groaning loudly as they did so and Kon-El had to admit he was surprised to see the girl among them, because sure, he knew she was a part of the team and that she spent some of her free time at HQ, but she was one of the lucky ones with a family and a civilian life…

… something that had been so alien to him those first years.

He shook his head, relaxing his muscles when Tim turned from his computer – and his hand stopped petting Bart’s fluffy hair – to smile shyly at him.

“Kon,” he greeted warmly, his cheeks pink, his lips curling.

Kon felt his color rise.

Tim was so beautiful.

“Kon! Hey, Kon! Bro!” Bart beamed, jumping from his seat at Tim’s side and jumping onto him, dragging him by the hand towards his improvised whiteboard and grinning at his work. “Please tell these three losers that this is kid’s stuff?”

Kon blinked, not used to being the recipient of Bart’s exuberance and yet oddly pleased to be treated by the younger teen without any deference.

With a short glance to the wall of numbers, the clone managed to hide the small smile curling his lips, until he blinked.

“You are cutting three decimals wrong, Bart,” he told the speedster, an eyebrow raised.

The other teen blinked at him in silence, then at the numbers, his eyes wide.

“Wha- NO WAY!” he cried. “How can you tell?”

Kon simply shrugged, pressing a finger against his forehead.

“Cadmus programed math in my head, remember?”

Bart blinked, his face innocently puzzled, for once conveying his real age.

“Oh, right…”

Arsenal’s metal hand slammed against the table.

“WHAT THE FUCK, BART!” he demanded at the same time as Wonder Girl cracked her knuckles and Jaime moaned in dismay because, apparently, he had been using Bart’s equation to finish his homework.

“I told you this was ancient math to me!!” the teen whined, trying to correct the whole thing and probably escape the beating his comrades were planning in revenge. “I don’t remember all of it!”

“You little…” Arsenal snarled, while Wonder Girl cracked her knuckles.

Bart whimpered.

“Oh, for god’s sake…” Tim huffed as he stood from his seat, annoyance pouring out of him in waves.

All teens turned to him, eyes wide.

“Go to your chair, Bart,” he growled, his frame squared, his chin set.

The speedster blinked, shocked.

“I can still fix it…”

“I said chair, Bartholomew,” Tim said evenly, an eyebrow raised.

Bart obeyed with a small wince, his lips jutting out in a pout.

Tim turned to the dangerous trio.

“You,” he snapped. “Sit down.”

Jaime, Arsenal and Wonder Girl silently obeyed, gapping.

“Now,” Tim said as he grabbed Bart’s red marker, his face set in grimm lines. “I will only explain this once and then I’ll go back to work because I have three reports to finish and one map of the city to go over and you three are going to do your homework like you should have done weeks ago. Are we clear?”

Another silent nod.

“Okay,” Tim sighed, starting to write. “All you have to do…”

Kon watched in awe as his sweet, shy, soft-spoken Tim perfectly channeled the Batman himself, easily commandeering the attention of the room and demanding without words their unquestioned obedience.

Hell, even Kon himself had felt an irrepressible need to go and sit with the others, even when he already knew the material by heart.

The way Tim moved, the confidence with which he spoke and how he easily simplified the material for his comrades had all their team mates paying attention, enraptured by his efficiency.

Kon could easily tell he had the makings of a leader, hiding under his usually small presence. The markings that Kaldur once tried to force himself to adopt and that Nightwing usually evaded like the plague.

No wonder Nightwing wanted him to be here with the team more often than not.

Kon felt so proud.

“… and that’s how you do it,” Tim finished, capping the pen once more and raising an eyebrow when Arsenal scowled at him. “Any questions?”

The redhead opened his mouth, most likely – in Kon’s humble opinion – with some remark about Tim’s petite body, or his doll-like face, but Wonder Girl had a hand firmly behind the other teen’s neck, her eyes narrowed.

“Don’t you dare, Roy,” she hissed. “We need him.”

Arsenal huffed, but obediently conceded to the girl’s glare and lowered his eyes towards his homework.

The blonde beamed.

“None whatsoever,” she said, the picture of complete sweetness. “Thanks, Robin.”

Tim smiled at her, his cheeks pink.

“I’m glad,” he said, shaking his head and walking back to his usual place on the couch, grabbing his computer and blinking when Bart huffed at him, visibly still offended. “Oh, Bart…”

The speedster scowl’s deepened, his arms crossed over his chest as his leg twitched.

“You called me Bartholomew,” he hissed. “No one calls me Bartholomew.”

Tim’s teeth sank on his bottom lip, distressed and a little bit ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he said honestly, offering his spread arms towards the other teen. “I didn’t mean to hurt you?”

 Bart  pouted for a second, his eyes narrowed and shoulders  squared.

"Please?"  Tim tried again his voice soft.

Bart flew to his best friend's arms, burrowing his face on the crook of Tim's neck before digging in contentment.

"Never again?" he hissed, fingers digging into Tim's shoulder. The other teen winced.

"Okay," he agreed. "I promise."

"Then you are forgiven," Bart sentenced, smiling.

Tim smiled back.

“Thank you,” he said, moving so the other teen could comfortably snuggle on his side, and then pulled the screen of his computer up once more, eyeing the data.

Kon felt his eyes narrow, his mouth thinning. He needed to remind himself that Bart was nothing but a child – and apparently his name was Bartholomew, which sounded unfortunate to Kon – but the fact that Tim was so open with his affections towards him, and how easily the other teen fell into Tim’s arms –even though Kon had just held Tim’s hand, had never had the ease to just sink around Tim and breathe into his skin, taste his lips… not yet, at least – made something inside of the clone coil like a snake.

Why should Bart be allowed around Tim more readily than anyone else?

Bart already had a boyfriend, Jaime.

Bart was not Tim’s soulmate like Kon was.

Clark would feel ashamed if he knew Kon was feeling like this, he was sure. Because Clark would never feel this burning need to remove someone from his soulmate’s proximity.

But then again Pa’ told him he had done many questionable things to make sure Ma’ was his one and only, which meant that Kon could technically do questionable things to, because Tim was his one and only.

So Clark wouldn’t be angry at him, right?

The clone nodded to himself, walking towards the two teens still sitting on the couch, stoping with hesitation when Tim looked up from his monitor, his fingers still dancing on the keys without his eyes needed.

Kon felt his lips twitch with pride, his Tim was just that talented.

“Kon-El?” Tim asked, his voice full of curiosity.

Bart looked at him with wide golden eyes.

Kon swallowed silently, sitting on the other edge of the couch they were in, his knees trembling, his shoulders squared.

Both teens blinked at him.

Thinking of Pa’s encouragement and closing his eyes, Kon-El allowed himself to fall to his side, his whole body relaxing forcibly, as his head landed squarely on Tim’s lap.

Bart squeaked in surprise, moving slightly away.

Tim’s muscles tensed under Kon’s ear, his pulse growing hummingbird-fast under his skin.

Arsenal, Wonder Girl and Jaime fell completely silent, staring at them in utter shock.

Kon opened his eyes once more, locking his gaze with Tim’s mask.

Not a word was exchanged.

Jaime gapped at them.

Arsenal tried to rise from his spot on the floor.

“What the f-” he tried to say, only to be stopped by Wonder Girl’s hand on his shoulder.

The silence in the room stretched into an eternity.

Tim blinked, the muscle on his cheek jumped under Kon’s vigilant eyes.

His mouth twitched once, twice…

And then his hand went hesitantly – almost inquiringly – to touch Kon’s short hair, his fingers carding through it curiously.

Bart exhaled, far too loudly in the still room.

Jaime snorted, shaking his head, and turning once more towards his unfinished homework, as if the greatest mystery in the world was of no consequence to him.

Wonder Girl eyed them for another second before following suit, her pencil tapping onto Arsenal’s metal arm.

Tim’s face relaxed into the usually fond, small smile he wore around Kon.

 “Honestly…” he whispered, shaking his head and going back to his typing one handed, his other hand now firmly on Kon’s head.

Kon closed his eyes, enjoying Tim’s soft caresses.

Yes, this would do.

 

Chapter Text

“Guys! Come on!” Bart chirped, his sunny eyes wide and full of joy as he jogged on the sand, arms stretched out into the air and holding what seemed to be a banquet precariously squeezed into a basket. “HURRY UP! HURRY UP! HURRY UP!”

Jaime groaned as he hovered in the air holding his own cooler, scowling under the summer sun and hoping they made their way towards camp already. Kon could sympathize with him, to be quite honest, the heat was scorching and they were not in a good position to enjoy the sea breeze quite yet.

Wonder Girl, well, Cassie – she had cornered him with a glint in her eyes, demanding that if the others got to be called by their names she deserved the same courtesy – rolled her eyes at them, flying around with a wide smile on her face.

“Oh, stop whining, Jaime,” she laughed, easily carrying what Kon thought must be the drinks for the day. “We already talked about this.”

“Did we?” Jaime scowled, his mask retracting so he could display the full extent of his displeasure. Kon thought him dramatic, but smart. “Because all I remember is Roy and you deciding on your own and then forcing Bart’s puppy eyes on Robin when he refused.”

Cassie blinked her eyes at him, innocent and girlish.

“Oh, you must be remembering it wrong, then,” she said dismissively with a flick of her long blond hair. “I remember we agreed we needed a team day of our own because we are the kids and we deserve it.”

“And Robin was okay with it too,” Arsenal laughed, walking up to them, his smile as wide as Cassie’s and Bart’s. “And you wanted to see what happens when you put a Bat under the sun, don’t lie.”

Jaime had a few milliseconds to look ashamed before his mask covered his red cheeks.

Cassie laughed.

Arsenal grinned.

Kon scowled from behind them.

By the time he had been informed of the activity he had been resting his head on Tim’s lap – something that was happening more often than not and it was glorious – with Tim’s fingers carding through his hair as the two of them enjoyed a silent afternoon when Cassie burst into the room all excitement and energy, floating before them and speaking a mile a minute.

“No,” Tim had said, not even looking up from the screen he had been reading on.

“Come on!” Cassie had tried then, her voice becoming younger, high pitched. “Please?”

“No, busy,” Tim had replied instantly, simply using his thumb to continue his reading.

“Don’t make me go nuclear on your ass, Robin,” Cassie had threatened, her tone losing all innocence and youth.

Tim had blinked behind his mask, finally looking at the girl in askance just as Kon had been defeated by his own curiosity and opened his eyes as well, wanting to know what Cassie was threatening to do to Tim’s ass.

Turned out it was nothing to do with Tim’s actual, physical ass, but the threat was real nonetheless.

Because she held in her arms a pouting, teary eyed Bart, his fluffy hair combed to maximum fluff, his cheeks rounded and dusted with pink, his eyes wide, his eyelashes wet and his bottom lip trembling with sadness.

“You don’t wanna go to the beach with us, Robin?” he asked, his voice small, quiet.

Kon looked from Bart’s heartbroken face to Cassie’s superior smirk to Tim’s scowl.

Tim took a deep breath.

Then a second one.

His eyes narrowed, set on Cassie.

“You bitch,” he hissed. “When?”

“Saturday, all day,” Cassie had replied instantly.

“You mean it?” Bart asked, his eyes wide, a tentative smile curling his lips.

Tim had sighed then, nodding.

“Yay!” he cheered, wrapping his arms around Tim and then, before Kon even open his mouth, he embraced him as well. “This is gonna be so crash! Thank you guys! I love you!”

“Yeah, you guys, we love you,” Cassie had said, her own smile triumphant. “Let’s go make sure everything’s ready, right Bart?”

“Yeah!” the other teen had cried, his happiness as cheery as the sun, he grabbed Cassie’s hand and dragged her from the common areas, babbling all the while about how them, the younger generation, needed to be friendly and happy and how they needed to be the bestest friends forever.

Tim sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Kon stared at him.

“Were we just coerced to a picnic by the sea?” Tim asked, his voice defeated.

“I am not of the new generation,” Kon had said simply, shrugging his shoulders.

Tim’s scowl turned to him, making something inside Kon heat and flutter.

“You are our age and our friend, of course you are coming,” he had said, as if his presence among them was something obvious and Kon was just being silly.

Kon nodded, fighting off the urge to smile, knowing his own face did not look as kind with Clark’s doppy smile plastered all over it.

“Okay,” he agreed, once more resting his ear on Tim’s thigh and closing his eyes.

So, there they were, a week later, walking towards a spot Bart himself had designated the ‘Crash-est’ and wondering exactly what people did at the beach normally – and yes, he was perfectly aware he had been to the beach with the team once before, but at the time he had just followed Nightwing’s lead and could hardly remember being buried under the sand – and how to act around people who not only wanted his presence, but actively looked for it, something that had not happened to him in years.

“Hey,” Tim called, walking up to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Are you ok?”

Kon blinked at him, his face growing hot under the sun.

Tim was so visibly uncomfortable, with his knee-lengthcargo shorts and over-sized hoodie, sunglasses and hat, enormous beach umbrella balanced on his shoulder in order to protect his pale skin from the sun.

Kon could feel his lips twitch, amused by the image and also impossibly endeared, Tim was there despite his own comfort, because he knew it was important for them, because Bart and Cassie and Jaime and Arsenal were there.

Because Kon was there.

“I...” he hesitated for a moment, not sure how to explain his current dilemma or whether it was okay for him to simply… burden Tim with it. He shook his head. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Tim tilted his head to the side, his ice blue eyes piercing him even from the darkness of his glasses.

“Try again, pal,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

Kon sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m… not used to this,” he admitted finally. “The team and I… we did this, once… before it all went to hell.”

Tim nodded, his face open with understanding and… not really pity, more like a mix of compassion and anger all rolled into a small ball of him. Kon instantly knew what was running through his head, at that moment. What Tim would instantly associate with ‘the team’ as Kon called them. The people who had left him behind, the ones that did not care.

M’gann, who hurt him.

Sometimes Kon regretted telling Tim his secret, if only for the way the teen’s body language seemed to change and tense whenever all active members were reunited in the same room. Whenever M’gann would shyly smile at him, eyes fond with memories of what they used to have and sorrow for what they had lost.

Tim was changing, becoming colder, stronger.

And Kon could only feel it was his fault.

After a prolonged silence, Tim finally took a deep breath, his body minutely relaxing, his fingers growing steady, still against Kon’s bare shoulder.

“I would say….” he said, swallowing whatever it was that seemed to want to take control of his face. “Take back those memories, and this place.”

Kon blinked, confused.

“What?” he asked.

Tim nodded to himself.

“Whatever good memory you had of this place was tainted by what happened….later, right?” he asked, looking at Kon.

The other teen nodded.

Tim’s smile was small, a little broken, but still oh so beautiful.

“Then, reclaim the memories by creating new ones, with people that love you,” he said, his voice such a small, sweet thing, that it seemed to coat every word with the bittersweet taste of his own experience. “If you let the past still bring you… unease, then they still have power over you. Reclaim the places that were tainted, I’d say, take control of your environment back and that way, rob them of that thing that… upsets you.”

Kon stared, eyes wide.

Tim’s cheeks turned bright red, his eyes falling to his bare feet.

“You… think I can do that?” the clone asked, awed.

Tim nodded, his prior confidence defeated by his natural shyness.

“I… I think that you can.”

Clark would later tell him that he should be a little more careful, that Tim, as a normal human being, was fragile and definitely not up to his Kryptonian bouts of joy.

But at the time Kon was too overjoyed to think about Tim’s fragile human physique, or consequences, actually, he wrapped his arms around Tim’s frame, his face buried in Tim’s dark hair – breathing in Tim’s scent of green apple and Kevlar and machine oil – practically vibrating in an effort to contain the feelings that seemed to swallow him whole.

“W-woah!” Tim yelped, his body tense and his voice a small squeak.

“Thank you, Tim,” Kon whispered over and over again, his voice hoarse with the power of his feelings, his breathing ragged. “No one has ever… believed in me like that.”

Tim’s body relaxed once more, his small hands patting his arms gently, awkwardly.

“Umm, Kon?” he said, then, unsure.

Kon shook his head, nose still buried in Tim’s hair – he had knocked Tim’s hat off, apparently – not ready to let go of this boy, this soulmate of his, that was slowly, ever so slowly, giving him back his life.

“Kon… er...” Tim tied again, his voice a little more firm.

“Just… let me...” Kon whispered, his smile so wide it was painful. “Just a few more seconds.”

Tim sighed, the air parting his lips and hitting Kon on the neck, making him shiver in unadulterated pleasure – he would have to examine those reactions later.

“Sure thing, Kon,” Tim agreed with a sigh. “But I … er… I think you miiight want to see this.”

Kon blinked, finally lifting his face from Tim’s hair and staring at the other teen in askance.

“What?” he asked, confused.

Tim’s smile was more confident now, lovely and full of intelligence.

“That,” he said, his fingers pointing at their feet… dangling a foot over the sand.

Kon frowned.

Their feet shouldn’t be dangling, they were standing together just a second ago.

The only way their feet – both of their feet – were dangling right now would be if something was supporting them.

In the air.

Bart chose that particular moment to peek from behind a dune, his eyes wide, his smile sunny.

“GUYS!” he cried, his exhilaration palpable in the air. “Suppey did it! Suppey is flying!!”

Cassie appeared a second after, eyes wide.

“Holy shit! He’s right!” she yelled, arms waving happily. “Congrats Superboy!”

Arsenal and Jaime stared at well, both faces full of confusion.

“So what if he flies,” Arsenal scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You all fly too.”

“But not like this!” Bart protested, arm flailing to point at Kon in all his floating, flying glory. “You all don’t fly like THIS!”

Jaime scratched the stubble growing on his chin, his smile a little kinder, softer.

“I’m… not sure what this is about, I mean, you are Superboy, of course you can do the impossible,” he admitted, as if Kon flying, doing what no one thought him capable was something as normal as the sky being blue. “Still, congratulations, hermano.”

Kon’s eyes widened, realization suddenly dawning on him.

“I’m…” he said, unable to find his voice or form a coherent thought. “I’m… flying.”

Tim’s smile turned into a grin full of pride.

“You are flying,” he said, moving his feet in the air as if to prove his point. “I knew you could do it.”

“But... how?” Kon asked, shocked.

“I do have some theories,” Tim assured. “Though we’d had to go back to HQ to be sure.”

“Oh no!” Bart cried, jumping onto Tim’s back and holding onto them for dear life. “We need to celebrate the first day Kon-El flew! This is important! Fundamental! UNIQUE! You can’t go back to boring experiments and thingamajigs NOW! ”

Jaime and Arsenal blinked.

“Thingamajigs?” Jaime asked.

Bart’s cheeks flushed.

“Isn’t that how you past people speak?” he asked. “I’m trying to fit in.”

Arsenal roared with laughter.

“Who taught you that?”

Cassie interrupted them before they, as usual, veered off course and lost the momentum.

“Point being,” she scoffed, wrapping her arms around Kon’s shoulders for a moment. “That we need to celebrate this new development.”

Kon stared at their feet, still hovering, completely safe.

Tim bit his bottom lip.

“That is… if you are okay with that?” he asked, his cheeks once more coloring.

Kon nodded, his own smile shy.

“I… would like that.”

Tim nodded back, hand reaching to push his sunglasses up.

The team – because no matter what the roster was, what everyone else might say, THIS was his team, his friends, now – dragged a still floating Kon and Tim towards an already set barbecue as Arsenal opened bottles for them to drink and Jaime went for the umbrella for Tim’s skin.

They would spend the rest of the day trying to teach Kon how to land and take off, how to twirl in place and elevate at will.

The day would be filled with laughter, pride and music, with the feeling of Bart’s vibrant exuberance and Cassie’s arm on his bicep as she helped him stabilize.

With Tim’s hand on his own when he became too anxious.

Years later, when Kon-El would look at that one nondescript spot on the beach and would smile, because his friends, his family, had just turned a memory tainted by tragedy into something he could treasure once again.

They had given him back his power over himself. 

Chapter Text

“Halt! The Police Chief shouted into the night, but the Grey Ghost was no longer there.” Tim read with a small smile on his face.

Kon listened to him raptly, his own eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in relaxation from inside his pod-like new bed.

Ever since his “flying” incident, Clark and the League had decided something was definitely happening with his body and had whisked him away to the Watchtower to be tested on and possibly explain how come he hadn’t been able to fly for years since Clark himself was flying ever since he could remember.

He had been lonely, he wasn’t about to deny it, having Clark as the only constant in a day to day basis, and he knew Clark was trying, but his tense smile and the way his eyes would sometimes tear up whenever Kon-El knew he was imagining he was sick.

He didn’t want Clark to be sad.

He didn’t want to be there.

He just wanted to be back home, on Earth.

 

With Ma’ and Pa’ and Tim.

 

Then one day Batman had appeared and told them that he had found out Kon-El had always been able to fly, but he had not been exposed to UV rays as much as Clark had because he had spent the first few years of his life between labs and a the inside of a mountain, so it stood to reason that Kon’s powers had not developed as fast as Clark’s own and the more Kon was exposed to direct sunlight, the more his powers would develop like Clark’s.

Clark had frowned, unsure, until Batman has sighed and showed him page after page of calculations and ratios.

All in Tim’s tiny, neat handwriting.

Kon had felt his heart floating on the base of his throat.

Tim had been researching for him, all the information had come from Tim.

Tim cared enough to use his already limited free time for him.

Clark sighed and finally allowed him to go back to base, where his team – not M’gann’s, not Nightwing’s, his team – had been waiting for him with colourful drinks and snacks and cheers. Bart had jumped into his arms with a cry of relief, Cassie had floated over him, dumping confetti on his head, Jaime patted his shoulder and called him ‘brother’, and even Roy had offered him a two-fingered salute, his usual smirk less harsh, softer, younger.

He had been missed.

And Tim, wonderful, sweet, thoughtful Tim.

 

Had presented him with a mechanical table-like tube.

Jaime had blinked.

“A tanning bed?” he asked.

“It’s silly but I thought it might help you out when, you know, need some re-charging?” he had said, pink dusting his cheeks.

Bart beamed.

“You are the smartest, Robin!” he said, and started looking around for all the fluffiest pillows for, what he called, Superboy’s coolest, crash-est, new charging sun-bed.

 

Kon had smiled his thanks to Tim.

 

And started using it that very same night.

 

Especially since Tim had decided - or at least Kon thought Tim had decided, they never actually talked about it - that Kon must be bored, spending hours inside his new bed, all alone and in silence, so he now tended to sit by his side and just, be there, chat.

 

Sometimes he even brought books to read, for him.

 

It beat sitting before the TV any day of the week.

 

Like right now, as the rest of the team was doing something or other that neither of them had bothered with, and Tim was reading The Grey Ghost to him and Kon felt rejuvenated.

In fact, Tim’s sunlight-health connection theory seemed to have quite the merit.

 

He hadn’t really realized it before, because he didn’t have any comparison, back when he was a first-born.

But the more he spent under the sun, the more time he let himself bask in light, the clearer his mind became.

 

Before it had been numbers and quotes and information, all battling inside his head to be there.

Now, though?

Now he felt like everything could come to a halt if he just allowed himself a moment to breath, his thoughts became organized, his mind was sharper.

It wasn’t as hard to express himself.

 

Not that he expressed himself out loud all that much.

But it was easier, faster now, for him to know what to say.

 

Kon sighed, allowing his mind to come to a halt and his muscles to relax.

 

“What happened then?” he asked, his own voice a mere whisper, as if afraid to break the ever so rare air of tranquility that enveloped them.

Tim, looked at him, Kon could hear how his long eyelashes fanned the air as he blinked – so pretty.

“Well, let’s find ou-...” Tim stopped abruptly, and Kon let out a long sigh as he realized there were heavy, almost skipping steps coming their way, metallic soles of boots barely touching the ground and the air being disturbed.

 

Kon felt himself like groaning.

Bart and Cassie.

 

Tim did groan – making something warm-cold-soft-hard coil around Kon’s insides – and rested his forehead against the glass top of Kon’s bed, even if there was an almost invisible smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

 

“Three... two... one...” he whispered.

“ROBIN! SUPEY!” Bart yelled, wrapping his arms around Tim’s neck and beaming nervously at the two of them.

Kon-El still wasn’t so happy with Bart’s touching, but since he was now included in the circle of people Bart clung to, he wasn’t sure he was supposed to complain.

Or if Bart actually did it to make him react.

 

Not knowing about the future sucked.

“Hey guys!” Cassie greeted, floating above them – Cassie now, even in his mind, not Wonder Girl or, that one girl Wonder Woman trains, she liked flying, even more so now that she could teach Kon-El how to keep balance and gain speed, infinitely patient and encouraging to him – a nervous grin in her face.

Tim blinked.

“What happened?” he asked.

Bart giggled.

“We convinced Red Tornado that filling up the pool in the basement was a great idea and we are spending the day there, because we are the youngest and everyone else is doing adult stuff we babies are not supposed to know about.”

Tim blinked, then turned to Cassie.

The blond shrugged.

“Annual performance reports,” she said. “Also, you know, today is like, an important day too for... reasons.”

Tim frowned, then looked at his watch.

 

“Oh...” he sighed. “Where is he?”

Cassie’s shoulders slumped with relief.

“Jaime’s taking him to the pool, we are getting pizzas delivered and well.... we are just missing the two of you.”

“I still have two hour in here,” Kon-El replied, not really sure what was happening, but Bart was not smiling anymore, and Cassie was tense and Tim’s mouth was turning downwards.

 

“I can wheel you over? And then you can come out and spend the day with us at the pool?” Cassie offered. “Please?”

Kon-El didn’t even know his bed could be wheeled, but he didn’t think it was beyond Tim to think ahead and include such feature.

He looked at Tim, still in his now customary red and black hoodie and ripped jeans, wishing he could see his eyes behind his mask.

 

“It’s the anniversary of the day Roy was found,” Tim explained patiently and Kon had to close his eyes to control his emotions, because he knew he was biased around Arsenal, even now that he knew the other boy was basically harmless.

 

He still didn’t like Arsenal’s obsession with Tim.

Tim was his soulmate.

 

But Arsenal was part of their team too, and he was rough and rude and tense, his eyes reminded Kon-El of something that must have been really beautiful once, but now was broken.

 

So he took a deep breath and, before even asking his friends, he tried to put himself in Arsenal’s position.

Today was the anniversary of the day he had woken up after being kidnapped, of realizing he had been kept for years that he could never get back.

 

Of realizing there was another clone who had his face and had lived his life.

 

Kon frowned.

 

Of realizing no one, not Nightwing or Kaldur or Wally... Not even Green Arrow of Black Canary, had realized he was missing and had come for him.

And yeah, Kon could see it in the way he had seen the other boy approach them at the very beginning. Loud, harsh, larger than life itself.

 

His whole body screaming to the team: ‘I am here and you won’t be able to ignore me’.

 

But, if he thought about it a little bit longer, he could see that his attitude also screamed: ‘Don’t ignore me, please. I don’t know where I belong anymore. Don’t leave me behind.’

 

And maybe that’s what Tim, Bart and even Jaime had seen when Arsenal had approached them at the very beginning, insults and leers spewing from his mouth, angry eyes and clenched fists.

 

Maybe that was the main reason neither of them turned Arsenal away when he carved a place for himself in their group by force and spite. Being a second generation of heroes, they hadn’t know the other Roy all that much, and they had placed themselves on Arsenal’s shoes just like Kon was doing right now, had seen what his bravado was covering and welcomed him with open arms.

 

Because no one else could, should, would...?

 

Just like the group had welcomed him when he started to approach them.

 

Him who had, as far as they knew, hurt M’gann to the point she had been crying her eyes out in the kitchen, who had abandoned his duties and ran away to Kansas.

Him, with his perpetual scowl on his face and the silence that his former team had found so incredibly difficult to accept.

 

Tim and his group had been the same to the both of them.

 

They had taken one look at them, nodded and mover around so they had a place to stand on, among them.

 

They weren’t so different, then, Arsenal and himself.

 

At least he still had Tim, his soulmate.

 

Arsenal didn’t have a Tim of his own.

 

He opened his eyes and saw that Tim and Cassie and Bart were looking intently at him.

 

He nodded.

 

“Wheel me, Cassie?” he asked, his voice soft.

Tim smiled at him, proud, soft, bright like a star and yet diminutive like a spec of dust. So infinitely precious.

 

“As you wish, Supey!” Cassie beamed, as she did every time Kon called her by her name, and started to carefully push his bed around the compound. Tim and Bart walking behind them.

“Did you block the coms?” Tim asked suddenly, his eyes on his computer.

Cassie shrugged.

 

“Maybe we should keep radio silence for today?” Bart explained.

Tim rolled his eyes, patting his head absently.

“The key to radio silence that looks natural is not to interrupt transmissions, young padawans,” he explained, typing as he walked. “But to make it look like we were having so much fun we just didn’t hear the coms.”

 

“But we can hear the coms from every corner of the base,” Cassie pouted. “That’s the whole point.”

Tim blinked at her, the picture of innocence.

 

“Oh, well, no one has used the pool in such a long time, it would make sense the speakers at the pool just stopped working hm?”

Bart cackled.

Cassie laughed.

“If you ever turn evil and want to conquer the world,” she said. “I want to be on your team.”

Tim snorted.

“I’ll think about it,” he replied, earning himself a playful slap on the shoulder.

“He just doesn’t want to admit we would still be on the same team,” Kon-El suddenly said, making Cassie blink and Bart gape. “He likes us too much to conquer the world without him.”

Tim spluttered, his cheeks pink.

 

“Kon!” he said.

“Robin,” Kon replied evenly, his eyes locked with Tim’s mask.

Maybe it was because this was the first time Kon-El had decided to joke with them on his own. Or maybe because he was right, who knew? But Tim’s shoulders relaxed and Bart’s and Cassie’s smiles grew.

“You loooooove us, Robin?” Cassie asked, batting her eyelashes.

 

“No, of course I don’t, you all suck,” he replied, burrowing inside his hoodie so the others couldn’t see his pleased, tender smile.

Cassie winked at Kon.

Kon nodded back at her.

They approached the pool.

 

The music was loud, the lights were bright and the smell of food permeated the whole room.

Arsenal and Jaime were already there, drinking and eating and laughing.

When he saw them approach, Arsenal immediately got up, arms crossed.

 

“You guys are late!” he scowled, blinking when he saw Kon inside his bed. “You still cooking?”

Kon blinked back and shrugged.

“Still have two hours,” he replied. “Superman’s orders.”

Arsenal stared for a moment, before nodding.

 

“Kryptonians and their baking,” he muttered, his tone biting, as usual, but softer, rougher. Had Kon not talked to the others before he might have taken it as a slight against himself and Clark.

But this was an important day for Arsenal.

 

He let it slide.

 

“Why aren’t you two in the water?” Cassie asked, removing her shirt and shorts and ending up in a red and yellow swimsuit, just as Bart was taking off his own clothes.

“We were waiting for your late asses!” Arsenal said simply.

“And we were ordering the pizza,” Jaime added. “Before Bart got here and ordered some weird ‘future’ topping.”

“Hey!” Bart protested. “Nutella and Ham on cheese is the best combination in the history of like, ever!”

“Pass,” Cassie, Jaime, Tim and Arsenal said in unison, before laughing when Bart’s pout lengthened.

 

Cassie left Kon’s tanning bed by the water and dove into the pool with a battle cry she must have learned from Wonder Woman herself, dragging Arsenal and Bart with her.

Jaime followed them in a more sedated pace.

Tim, on the other hand, sat besides Kon’s pod and let his feet rest on the water, his pose one of relaxation, his smile small.

 

“You are not swimming?” Kon asked, confused.

 

Tim shook his head.

“I don’t have a swim suit,” he said, then looked at Kon. “Not here anyways.”

Kon blinked.

“Is that... important?” he asked. “Having a swim suit?”

 

Dinah had told him that some humans valued their bodies and didn’t feel comfortable undressing before others – when he had started to strip before M’gann and Artemis, way back during his first few months on the team – and Tim was one of the most private people he had known in his life. Maybe he didn’t feel comfortable undressing with the team?

Their beach outing he had spent most of the day under a beach umbrella, never removing his hoodie or his sunhat.

Tim thought about it for a moment.

 

“I have scars,” he said finally. “It’s part of the job and I don’t really mind them, but sometimes the others will look at them and... I don’t know, feel sad? Like they are sad I got hurt, but all of us get hurt and it’s normal.”

Kon thought about it for a moment.

He didn’t have scars, neither did Cassie or Bart.

Arsenal had them, he was proudly recanting them to Jaime and Bart at that very second.

 

Jaime had a long one that ran the length of his back.

“Maybe it’s because you don’t have powers,” he told Tim finally. “I would not be sad that you got hurt, but I would be sad that I, with all my powers, was not there to stop it.”

 

Tim looked at him, his flush turning red.

 

“But I also know it’s part of the job,” Kon hurried to explain, his own face feeling warm. “And I know you can take care of yourself, you are the most capable member of the team, after all.”

 

Tim snorted, resting his side fully on the leg of Kon’s tanning bed, as he sometimes rested onto Kon’s back when they were studying or watching TV.

Silent.

Trusting.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

Kon smiled back.

“You are welcome.”

 

Kon was so relaxed then, with Tim’s quiet presence by his side and he laughter of his friends enveloping him, to the point he didn’t notice the metal hand approaching Tim until it was too late and he wasn’t able to warn Tim before the hand had seized him by the ankle and had dragged him underwater with a soft cry.

 

Nervously, Kon opened the hatch of his tanning bed, ready to dive in and rescue Tim, but, as usual, Tim was already rescuing himself, because by the time Kon was ready to leap, his x-ray vision showed him that Tim had Arsenal in what appeared to be a martial art-related hold, his arm pushing against Arsenal’s back, his knee tight against his neck, his other hand holding the metal arm away while Arsenal pushed to free himself, flailing with his free hand unsuccessfully.

The two of them came out for air, Tim’s hair plastered to his forehead, Arsenal’s covering his eyes for a moment.

“Damn it, Doll-face!” Arsenal roared. “You cheated!”

Tim blinked at him for a second.

“You grabbed me out of the blue and I get really cranky when I’m wet, you should know.”

 

“B-but using Bat-training on the pool is cheating!” Arsenal said, pointing at Tim with a metal finger.

Tim raised an eyebrow.

“That wasn’t Bat-training.”

Cassie, Bart and Jaime burst into laughter as Arsenal dove back in on top of Tim, Kon rested his chin on his folded arms and decided to enjoy the sight of Arsenal trying to wrestle Tim into submission underwater, only to have Tim turn around and pin him down over, and over, and over again.

Bart and Jaime started cheering them on, arms raised.

Cassie rolled her eyes, her own smile fond.

“Boys,” she said, winking at Kon-El.

Kon couldn’t tear his eyes away from the duo underwater.

The two of them had smiles on their faces.

Tim moved as if he was born to be in the water, every one of his limbs in unison with the bubbles they were producing.

His expression sharp.

His clothing clinging to his skin, embracing him.

The water reflecting the light, making him look even paler than usual.

Making him sparkle.

 

Kon could feel his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, but he wasn’t hungry, that much he knew. The heat in his body was growing – maybe it was time to come out of the tanning bed? - and his skin itched as if he was growing too big and it could not contain him anymore.

Whenever Tim fought, Kon always thought he was a dancer, his movements fluid, his grace infinite in was Nightwing’s gangly body had not had at that age, his small smile self-assured and beautiful.

Underwater was no different.

Arsenal reached and ripped Tim’s hoodie open, his fingers running over Tim’s ribs in a soft caress that had the other teen gasping and loosing all his air.

The two of them came out for air once more.

“You cheater!” Tim yelled, this time, using his arm to try and drown the laughing Arsenal with water. “You tickled me!”

Roy continued to laugh.

“I didn’t know...” he wheezed. “Bats were ticklish.”

Tim flushed.

“I’m special.”

 

Arsenal nodded, as if it was obvious.

To Kon it was, though he wasn’t all so sure if he liked the fact that Arsenal knew it too.

 

“Well, I want my reward, I finally managed to win,” Arsenal demanded, his smirk back in place.

Tim blinked.

“You’ve already seen my face,” he said, obviously still upset about it. “That was our deal.”

“Well yeah, but I won!” Arsenal scowled. “I deserve a prize.”

Tim looked around for support, but Jaime was nodding along with Bart and Cassie was muttering to herself that it was quite unfair that the boys had seen Robin’s face and she hadn’t.

Even Kon looked intrigued.

He sighed.

 

“Fine,” he sighed. “What do you want? And make it good, this won’t happen again.”

 

Arsenal made a show of thinking about it, his eyes roaming over Tim’s exposed chest, his collarbone, the way his dark hair seemed to make his skin look like milk.

Kon knew he was noticing all those things.

Kon himself was noticing all those things.

He wasn’t sure he liked it.

Then, with a flash of movement, Arsenal stood behind Tim, holding his chin in his hand. “As my prize I want you to stay still, and you can’t cover this up for 24 hours.”

“I can’t cover what for 24 hou-?” Tim began but couldn’t finish when Arsenal’s lips descended upon his neck and he could just manage a small squeak of surprise.

 

Bart gaped, shocked.

Jaime covered his eyes with his hands, unsure.

Cassie whistled, urging Arsenal on.

Kon felt himself boil.

 

Arsenal was kissing Tim.

Arsenal was kissing HIS SOULMATE!

Kon snapped his tanning bed open, swinging his legs to go and rip the two apart even if it meant ripping Arsenal limb by limb when the other boy took a step back with satisfaction.

 

A red and purple bruise now adorned Tim’s usually snow-white neck.

 

“You...” Tim whimpered.

“When Dick sees that he’s so gonna lose his shit!” Arsenal cackled.

“You troll!” Tim hissed, hand covering the bruise and already performing a somersault to kick Arsenal in the head. “I’m going to be grounded for eternity!”

“Oh, come on!” Arsenal laughed even as he got a foot-full of Tim on the forehead. “It’ll fade in a few days!”

“Still!”

 

Kon couldn’t stop thinking about the bruise on Tim’s skin, of Arsenal’s lips sucking on the delicate skin.

Arsenal had no right to kiss Tim’s skin!

Those should have been Kon’s lips on Tim, it should be his teeth marking Tim’s skin.

Kon should be the ones making Tim’s skin such colour, tasting the water and the smell that Kon had already associated with Tim’s flesh, feeling the pulse flutter against his rib cage against his fingertips like the wings of a butterfly.

 

That mark should have been Kon’s, proclaiming them to be soulmates for the world to see!

He was ready to dive into the water and maybe throw the other teen to the sun or something – he was sure he could do it, he had seen Clark do it with heavier stuff – when something pulled uncomfortably against his right leg, the tightness of his skin not abating for a second and now concentrated on his crotch.

 

Kon looked down, confused by his suddenly restricted mobility.

 

And blanched.

 

There was something there, inside his pants.

 

Something aching and pulsing and uncomfortable.

 

Something bulging.

 

“Kon-El?” Tim asked, alerted by his sudden movement.

The thing inside his pants twitched.

 

Painfully so.

 

What was happening to him? Was he sick? Was it all the UV rays he had been absorbing?

Was it because he was an alien?

 

Because he was a clone?

“Are you okay?” Tim asked, making his way out of the water, his expression worried.

Silence fell upon them, Bart, Cassie, Jaime and Arsenal looking at him in worry.

Kon did the only thing he could think of.

“C-c...CLARK!” he cried, frightened.

 

And flew towards Metropolis with all the strength his newfound abilities granted him.

He would apologize for the broken ceiling later.

Chapter Text

Kon wanted to die. 

 

Well, not  die die, but maybe disappear for a decade or two? 

 

Because he was supposed to be a smart kid, Cadmus had made sure that all the knowledge he would need to be a functional member of human society and more had been programed in his head, ready for him to reach for it at a moment’s notice. 

 

And yeah, usually it was easy, he had a question and the answer would gently appear behind his eyelids, as if he had known it all along. He just had to think it.

 

However, the mind of a teenager was so fast and curious and it sometimes had a hard time connecting two subjects together despite being quite aware of them, or so Clark theorized, his voice so soft even Kon’s super hearing had issues making out his words. 

 

“Yours and Luthor’s genius clone kid has ADHD,” Batman’s own harsh growl of a voice had no issue reaching him, its incredulity as clear to Kon as the color of his shirt. 

 

And it wasn’t Kon’s fault, per se. 

 

He hadn’t lied to Clark when he told him he knew all there was to know about human reproduction, Cadmus had made sure when they made him. He knew the human male penis was supposed to … well…. enter the… 

 

He flushed, shaking his head. 

 

He knew how it was supposed to work but he had never seen a human penis, so it was obvious he would assume that whatever genitalia he sported himself was the same as Clark’s and CLARK. WAS. NOT. A HUMAN.

 

It stood to reason, therefore, that if his genitals, that had not acted out in his life suddenly decided to fricking MOVE, the only person in the whole planet that might understand what was happening to him was Clark himself. 

 

And yes, he was physically in his late teens, whatever, Tim always said he was six years old and he was going to stick with it, especially now that he had basically burst into Clark’s apartment - he would have to pay for the wall from his own allowance, he knew it - in the middle of the night, tears in his eyes, thinking he was sick and was going to DIE.

 

And Clark, his father figure, brother, mentor, whatever the older man decided to call it.. had looked at him, had really looked at him, muttered a soft: “Oh, no…” and had dashed himself for a phone to call Pa’ Kent.

 

If Clark had to reach out to Pa’, Kon had to know that whatever was happening to him was serious, and his panic had only increased when he could clearly hear Clark whisper into the phone: “Pa’, please, I don’t know what to do! How am I supposed to… Yes! I know what you said all those years ago but… But Pa’! He’s crying and I… Pa’? Pa’ don’t hang up! Pa’??? PA’!?”

 

The desperation in Clark’s eyes had been so clear Kon-El had felt his own heart stutter in his chest, the bright red of his cheeks and the way his eyes were tiny pinpricks was so confusing. 

 

And then finally Clark had swallowed loudly, wrapped a blanket around him, carded a hand through his messy, wind-blown hair, and tried, quite unsuccessfully, to smile at him in reassurance. 

 

“E-everything is going to be okay, Kon-El,” he had whispered, his voice cracking. “You are not dying… you… just…” 

 

“Just…?” Kon had asked, lower lip trembling. 

 

Clark had swallowed once more, twice, three times, and then his eyes had lit up and he started writing on his phone, fingers careful yet fast and accurate, his brow furrowed in conversation. 

 

The two had fallen into silence for a few minutes that to Kon seemed like an eternity, but finally Clark’s phone had rung that funny song he and Lois used to sing to each other in annoying tones whenever they were celebrating, and Clark was picking the call up so fast Kon thought the phone was going to crack under the pressure. 

 

“Hello?” he said, squeaking. 

 

“Hand the phone over to the boy, Clark,” a tired, so tired voice growled from the other end.

 

Clark had obeyed immediately, desperate whispers of “thank you, thank you so much,” falling from his lips as he gently placed the phone against Kon-El’s ear.

 

“Umm…” Kon had hesitated. “Hello?”

 

Another tired sigh, so familiar and yet so hard to recognize.

 

“Your penis works like a human penis, Kon-El,” the voice had said. “If stimulated, whether physically, visually or emotionally, it will become erect and ready for sexual intercouse.”

 

Kon-El blinked. 

 

“Oh…” he whispered. That was it? He had a human penis? “I understand.”

 

Another sigh. 

 

“Any questions?” 

 

Kon shook his head. 

 

“Uh, no Sir,” he replied. “Thank you.” 

 

“Very well,” the voice said, just in time for Clark to take the phone back and it was suddenly colder, harsher, and Kon finally realized exactly who it was that Clark had called. 

 

Batman.

 

Clark had called THE BATMAN himself to help him out with his predicament - and how was it that Batman knew how his own genitalia, and by extension Clark’s, worked? Now the way Lois eyed the two of them from time to time made a lot more sense - and was now chewing Clark a new one for disturbing him and forcing him to do the parenting for him. 

 

With a sigh of utter relief Kon had taken possession of Clark’s couch, enjoying the sound of his mentor’s spluttering apologies and half-cut explanations, as they worked kind of like the static on he TV back at Mount Justice, or the way he sometimes could focus on Tim’s and Cassie’s verbal sparrings, Bart’s unbridled laughter or, his favorite, Tim’s own heartbeat. 

 

It blocked all other sounds and helped his own beating pulse to find calm.

 

Ten minutes later Clark sat by his side with a shy smile and his cheeks still tinted a little pink, his hands fiddling with eachother. 

 

“You ok, kid?” he asked softly. 

 

Kon nodded. 

 

“Yeah,” he hesitated. “I’m sorry.” 

 

Clark’s shoulders slumped from all tension, his smile growing fond, paternal. Kon liked it when Clark smiled like that. 

 

“It’s ok,” he assured, wrapping an arm around Kon’s shoulders. “Sometimes I forget you are still so young, even if Cadmus gave you knowledge you have so much to discover for yourself.” 

 

Kon allowed himself to snuggle against Clark’s side. It was something he sometimes did, now that he had practice snuggling against Tim’s smaller frame, silently seeking comfort. 

 

“We were in the pool,” he whispered. “Today is the anniversary of the day the team found Arsenal.” 

 

Clark nodded, understanding filling his sky blue eyes, a hand started carding through Kon’s hair, fingers sure and warm. 

“Your team wanted to distract him,” he said, smiling when Kon nodded against his shoulder. “That’s really kind of you.” 

 

“It was Cassie’s idea,” he said. “I was in my tanning bed, everyone else was swimming. It was fun… but then…”

 

“Then?” Clark asked patiently. 

 

“Then Arsenal pulled Tim underwater, they fought,” he paused. “They are always sparring. Arsenal says that he wants to use his arrow training to defeat Tim and his Bat training, it never works because Tim is the best.” 

 

Clark chuckled. 

 

“I’m guessing Tim must be really proud,” he said, Kon frowned. 

 

“I don’t know, I mean, Arsenal always seeks Tim out and boasts, says he’s girly and doll-like, and Tim huffs, cracks his knuckles and they disappear into the training matts,” he admitted, his scowl deepening. “I don’t like it.” 

 

Clark stared at him. 

 

“Why?” he asked. “You think Tim could be in danger?” 

 

Kon thought about it, as he usually did whenever he and Clark had these quiet moments together. 

 

Tim and Arsenal always sparred, Cassie said it was ‘their thing’ and Jaime said that ‘Roy needs to feel like part of the team’ which Kon didn’t really understand, because of course Arsenal was part of the team, he had a place with them, a room at Mount Justice and a chair he favored whenever they got together for video games and movies the other members of the team knew never to touch. Hell, no one ever told him to shut up when he was being extra annoying and trying to pull Tim away from the others, eyes determined, hands tight, shoulders tense. 

 

The rest of the team simply laughed amongst themselves and wished him good luck, Cassie even waved them both goodbye and reminded them that they had to be back for dinner. 

 

Kon shook his head. 

 

“No, Tim always wins and Arsenal sulks for a while,” he admitted. “I just… I don’t like that Tim… has to leave.”

 

“Ah,” Clark nodded. “You don’t like it when Tim pays attention to other boys.” 

 

Kon nodded, eyes wide. 

 

“I don’t,” he said. “How do I make it stop?”

 

A startled laugh escaped Clark’s lips. 

 

“I’m afraid you can’t, Kon-El,” he said, mirth clear in the tone of his voice. “Tim is a good kid and there will always be other boys and girls that will want to spend time with him.” 

 

Kon’s lower lip curled. 

 

“But I don’t like it,” he said, fingers tightening against Clark’s shirt.

 

“I know you don’t, but Tim is his own person, he has a right to have his own friends, whether you like it or not,” Clark explained, his tone patient, knowledgeable. “You wouldn’t like it if Tim suddenly said he didn’t like you spending time with the rest of the team, right?” 

 

Kon thought about it, unsurprised to realize he would do it, if Tim ever told him he didn’t want him around Cassie or Bart or Jaime, he would cut ties with them in a second if only to please Tim. 

 

But he also felt a small twinge in his chest at the thought of never sitting down to eat Jaime’s Mom’s cooking or flying under the sun with Cassie or running with the warm beach sand under his toes with Bart. 

 

And he wasn’t as close to them as Tim was. 

 

Tim was the glue that had somehow bound their little team within the team together with his shy smiles and huffs of annoyance, his eyes that read them all as if they were an open book and accomodated each of their needs accordingly and, in turn, every single member of the team had looked at the other and, by Tim’s example, seemed to mold themselves to the others, making sure each and everyone fit.

 

Even Arsenal had done it and yes, Kon could see it. 

 

If Kon felt a twinge, Tim would be devastated, he would cry, Kon was sure. 

 

No, he realized, he couldn’t do that. 

 

He finally shook his head. 

 

“No,” he admitted. “That would be wrong.” 

 

Clark’s smile turned proud, the warmth of his hand now resting on the back of his neck. 

 

“It’s hard at first,” he said consolingly. “Sharing that person you love so much with the rest of the world, but it’s the connections we make with others what makes us complete, you know?”

No, Kon didn’t know, not like he knew complex equations and chemical compositions, not like he knew the velocity of the northern winds or the exact shade of blue of Tim’s eyes. 

 

But… he thought he might know it nonetheless.

 

“But I can still get mad when Arsenal leaves kiss marks on Tim’s neck, right?” he asked after a pause. “I can be angry then?”

 

Clark stared at him in shock, eyes wide, mouth parted. 

 

“So THAT’S WHY he was so pissed!” he said suddenly, laughing openly, cheeks flushed, hands reaching for his phone and typing almost maniacally. 

 

Kon pouted. 

 

That wasn’t and answer and now Kon was confused again. He really wanted to know what an appropriate response for Arsenal was, because he was quite sure that launching the other teen into the sun would be a big no no for the others, but it seemed perfectly justified for Kon-El himself and ignoring the fact was absolutely out of the question, especially now that he knew - thanks Cadmus - how many days it would take for Tim’s milk-pale skin to lose the mark and Kon knew, he just knew , that he would not be able to help himself and his own eyes would stray to it every time he and Tim met. 

 

Hmmm Tim’s beautiful skin, scarred in a representation of his prowess yet pure like the snow.

Kon felt his mouth water, his pants tighten. 

 

Huh, at least he now knew what he should do, so he simply stood from the couch with a nonchalant wave and walked towards Clark’s bathroom.

 

“I’ll be right back,” he called behind his back, and his only reply was Clark’s manic laughter as message upon message reached his phone.

 

Sometimes Clark was so weird. 

Chapter Text

It took a week for Kon-El to learn to stop thinking about Tim’s slender neck and his milky white skin - attempt to really, sometimes he was more successful than others - and he was a little ashamed to admit he had spent more time in the lake that week that he had ever since Clark had dropped him off at Ma and Pa’s, but he had finally felt confident enough to be around Tim again and not embarrass himself too much with the new bodily reactions his puberty had bestowed upon him, so he went back to HQ with a small smile on his face that died a quick and agonizing death the moment Bart blinked his wide eyes at him with pity and Jaime sighed and said: “No, bro, sorry. Robin isn’t here.” 

 

It turned out Batman had descended upon them a few hours after Kon himself had stormed out - because Tim had called to ask him to check on Superman, obviously, Tim was the best and was worried about him like the wonderful soulmate he was - had taken ONE look at Tim’s bruised neck and all their guilt-ridden expression and had whisked him back to Gotham without a word. 

 

No one on the Team had seen him since. 

 

Also…

 

“Hey! Suppey!” Nightwing called, a wide smile on his face and an arm in the air. “You are back! Great!”

Kon blinked. 

 

“... Nightwing?” he asked, confused. 

 

 “He’s here to help out while Robin is away,” Jaime explained, shrugging.

Nightwing snorted. 

 

“No need to look that sour, guys!” he said, wrapping an arm around Kon-El’s shoulder. “Batman will give you Robin back in a few weeks. And I’ll be here in the meantime in case you need a bird, right Conner?” 

 

Kon stared, it had been a while since anyone had called him by that name. 

 

The first few weeks after Tim’s birthday he had started hissing at the rest of their team that his name was Kon-El because Superman had named him and if anyone had an issue with that they would have to go to him personally. 

 

Bart had huffed, that first time, snuggled closer to Tim and said that he knew Kon-El’s name was Kon-el. Future knowledge and all that. 

 

Cassie had snorted, rolling her eyes and passing a page from her magazine. 

 

“I’ll call him Kon-El when he starts calling me Cassie.” 

 

Jaime had blinked, his cheeks growing pink. 

 

“Have I been saying it wrong? Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” he had said, flailing his hands. “I thought it was a thing? Was I being insensitive like when the others sometimes call me Jamie? Promise I won’t do it again!” 

 

Finally Roy had stared at Tim in silence, a scowl on his face, a curl on his lips. 

 

Then his eyes landed on Kon himself, assessing him, trying to read whatever secret him and Tim had been keeping. 

 

He rolled his eyes after a few minutes of what appeared to be silent judgement.

 

“Sure, whatever,” he had scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. At the time Kon had thought he was being his usual aggressive self, but Arsenal had not called him Conner ever again.

 

Hearing that name again had given him a pause, a blank cover of pure nothing enveloping his brain, his hands felt clammy, his teeth grinding against each other. 

 

And suddenly a small yet incredibly powerful hand was sizing his own and pulling him forward in ways he wasn’t sure anyone other than Clark was able to pull him and Kon found himself staring into Cassie’s wide, inquisitive blue eyes. 

 

“Hey, Kon-El!” she said, small smile nervously curling her lips. “Kon, Konny, Konster, my dearest and most cherished friend?”

 

Kon blinked.

 

“Cassie?” he asked. 

 

“You love me, right? You adore me like the bestest friend in the history of ever that I am? Cooler than Roy? Sweeter than Bart? Greater than Jaime?” she continued, still smiling. 

 

“You are not mentioning Robin?” Jaime asked, arms crossed over his chest, eyebrow raised. 

 

“I’m not stupid,” she hissed at him. “So? Kon? Love of my life? Do you love me?”

“I…” Kon hesitated, making Jaime and Bart snort. 

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Cassie interrupted. “How much do you know about the history of the Battle of Hastings?” 

 

Kon blinked once more, slowly pulling all knowledge he had been programmed with. 

 

“All there is to know about it,” he admitted. 

 

“Wonderful!” she beamed. “And since you love me so much and don’t worry, I know you do…”

 

“Seriously, blondie?” Arsenal scoffed, approaching them with a bottle of water in his hand. “Seriously?”

“Oh, shut your treacherous and ignorant mouth, Roy!” Cassie snapped, shaking her head at him before turning back to Kon with her innocent smile. “Since you love me as much as I love you, my dearest and most precious best friend…”

“You want me to help you with your homework?” Kon interrupted this time, tilting his head. “Before Robin comes back to chew you out?” 

 

“Because you love me very much…?” Cassie batted her eyelashes. “Pretty please?” 

 

“Well…” Kon hesitated once more, on one hand Robin would be upset. He was quite serious about personal responsibility and the fact that everyone had to do their own homework on time and would often leave Roy and Jaime and Cassie to suffer the consequences of their actions if they failed to do so.

 

Then again his other option was to stay here with the team and Nightwing and he really didn’t want to. 

 

He nodded. 

 

“Let’s go,” he said.

“I love you, Kon-El!” Cassie beamed, wrapping her arms around his neck, dislodging Nightwing’s arm from around him and floating with him back to her room. 

 

“I’m telling Robin as soon as he’s back, Sandsmark!” Arsenal mocked. 

 

“Go sleep in a ditch, Roy!” Cassie snapped back before closing her door, then slowly, carefully, she set Kon back on his feet, her smile falling. “Are you ok?” 

 

“What?” he asked, confused. 

 

Cassie stared at him for a moment, slowly pulling one of her oversized hoodies over his shoulders, rubbing at his arms gently but vigorously. 

 

“You looked really uncomfortable out there,” she explained, taking his hand in hers once more and pulling him to sit on her bed by her side. 

 

Kon-El stared at her. 

 

“... what?” 

 

“You looked like you didn’t want to be there?” she continued, shrugging her shoulders. “So I pulled you out?” 

 

“...Oh,” Kon said, not sure what was actually happening. “So you don’t want me to help you with your homework?”

Cassie snorted, her nose wrinkling with her mirth. 

 

“Nah, please,” she said. “My mom is a professor of history, she’d ground me if I didn’t have my history homework on time.” 

 

“Then…” 

 

“Look,” Cassie sighed, resting her hands on her knees yet still sitting close enough Kon-El could feel the warmth of her skin to his right. “Robin gave us a talk about sensitivity and the group and that if anyone was making one of us feel uncomfortable we should all run interference and pull the others to a safe place.”

 

Something warm started spreading inside of Kon-El’s chest at the very thought. Tim had told them all that they should protect each other - him included - if anyone dared to make them feel uncomfortable and he knew it, he had seen Tim step in front of others whenever someone was louder than necessary, whenever someone asked Jaime about his mumbling, whenever someone tried to make Bart explain himself, and the moment he had been taken away, the whole team had been prepared to step up and continue shielding the others. 

 

Which meant. 

 

“Is that why Jaime, Bart and Arsenal were just there when I came in?” he asked. 

 

Cassie nodded. 

 

“Yup, we know the others sometimes make you feel off so we wanted to be there just in case,” she told him, smiling. “We know you don’t like it when people call you the old name and the others sometimes do so… we wanted to be ready?”

 

Kon stared at her. 

 

He nodded. 

 

“Thank you,” he whispered, feeling his own shoulders relaxing. 

 

“No problem, we know you’d do the same for us,” she said, confidently. “So, do we play Smash now while we wait or I can paint your nails?”

The clone paused. 

 

“Why paint my nails?” he asked. 

 

“Well, you have big hands,” she giggled. “A lot of space for me to practice.” 

 

He had seen Bart’s hands in bright shades of yellow and red and peach, with squiggly lines that he swore were his flash insignia. Jaime’s pinky and thumb in blues and greens and reds. 

 

Even Arsenal’s metal hand colored black and chrome with little star stickers that glowed in the dark. 

 

Kon stared at his hands, they were big. 

 

“I get to choose the colors, right?” 

 

Cassie’s smile grew wide and warm. 

 

“Of course.” 

 

In the end, his fingers were stained red and blue and black, the little red Superman S he had requested on his middle finger was lopsided and the yellow R Cassie tried to write looked like a square to the point she had decided to slap a sticker instead. 

 

It took them two hours to make it all look cohesive and to clean all the polish from his fingers. 

 

By dinnertime, Bart whooped and told him his hands looked so crash he had to take all the pictures, Arsenal choked on his food, trying to cover his laughter and got immediately scolded by Cassie, and Jaime patted his shoulder lightly as he served them more of his abuelita’s stew because none of them had remembered to cook or order out and the big dinner upstair with the rest of the team had been waved off with a simple explanation of them needing to finish homework and using Kon-El’s tube knowledge before Robin came back to scold them. 

 

Kon had seconds, then thirds, and finally posed with his hands a little because Bart told him he was sending the pictures to Tim.

 

The week continued in the same way. 

 

Nightwing supported them when the mission called for it, but he spent most of his time around Beast Boy and Kaldur and the others, sometimes he tried to talk to Kon or to pull him with him for more team-wide activities, video games, charades and swimming competitions were interrupted by the rest of his friends with excuses of homework and promises of flying practice and Superman ordered tanning bed naps and shopping trips with the whole team were spent with Cassie’s hand in his, Bart holding onto his arm and Arsenal and Jaime flanking them all on each side, all smiles and sneers and comments that separated him from the others. 

 

The only moment whatever Nightwing had planned to do with Kon-El was interrupted was when he only took Arsenal with him for training that was more vicious and angry than anything Kon had seen Tim dish to the archer.

 

Bart sighed and told him it was because Nightwing was angry at Arsenal. 

 

“Shouldn’t we… pull him out?” Kon asked as he sat on the floor of the training room, Nightwing slammed the younger teen into the training mats, a knee digging painfully on his back. 

 

“Robin said not to,” Jaime said, handing out flat bread and cheese - Pupusas from abuelita, he had called them - and sitting between him and Bart to watch the show. “He said that the whole thing was something between Roy and Nightwing so we should let them sort out their issues amongst each other.” 

 

“Boy stuff,” Cassie scoffed, biting into her pupusa. “Seriously.” 

 

“I am a boy and I wouldn’t do that,” Kon mussed, watching - and feeling a small, shameful twinge of satisfaction - when Arsenal was launched into another training mat a few feet away. 

 

On the other side of the training room, Beast Boy and Lagoon Boy cheered for Nightwing while Batgirl sat and shook her head, muttering under her breath about a ‘dick measuring contest.’

 

Kon wasn’t sure he wanted to see Nightwing’s penis or Arsenal’s, but  no one else was moving so he continued to sit and eat his food, making sure that Arsenal wasn’t seriously injured. 

 

Or well, he decided, he would interfere if Arsenal stopped moving. 

 

It was a good compromise.

 

Right? 

 

“I miss your abuelita’s tamales,” Bart whined. 

 

“I told you already,” Jaime sighed, rolling his eyes. “My abuelita is old. You want tamales? You come over and help her out.”

 

“Your mom said I was too messy!”

“You are,” Jaime and Cassie said at the same time. 

 

Bart pouted, eating his third pupusa in seconds.

 

“This is taking forever,” Cassie scowled to Kon’s right. “How long are they going to keep this up? It’s the third time this week.”

“Kaldur said this was their thing,” Jaime said. “It takes them a while to solve their issues?”

“Seriously, they could just talk about it like adults, right?” 

“You honestly expect Roy to talk about his issues?” Jaime turned to Cassie, face full of disbelief. 

 

Cassie thought about it for a moment. 

 

“Right.” 

 

Arsenal tried to get up, a snarl curling his mouth, his metal arm vibrating. 

 

Nightwing sighed and tightened his hold around Arsenal’s wrists, pulling his arms backwards. 

 

“Always playing dirty, huh?” Arsenal snapped, muscles tense. 

 

“I heard you have been trying to put your arrow training against bat training,” Nightwing said with a smile. “I don’t know what Robin has been doing but this is what usually happens when you try to provoke a Bat.” 

 

To Kon’s right, Cassie tensed with a soft: “Oh no…”

To Kon’s left, Jaime reached with a hand to stop Bart from moving.

 

In response, Kon felt his own shoulders tense, his hands clenched against his knees.

 

Arsenal narrowed his eyes. 

 

“It’s a friend's thing,” he spat. “You wouldn’t get it, Dick…” 

 

Something passed over Nightwing’s face, something years of spending time around him told Kon Arsenal had hit a nerve and had, actually hurt the other man. 

 

“Ugh… Roy, damn it,” Cassie hissed. 

 

Nightwing’s shoulders straightened, his smile dying. 

 

“Robin was supposed to take you in and train you to work like a cohesive unit,” he said, taking a step back. “He’s been too soft to you.” 

 

Kon thought about it, thought of all the things Tim did for them, how he made sure, even when he wasn’t there, that every single member of his small team within the team, felt safe and happy and important, how he had almost hand-picked all members not because of their abilities but because they needed him, and Nightwing was standing there and Kon knew deep inside, that he was acting out because Arsenal had hurt him, but Arsenal had a right to be angry, he had been targeted - whether it was something he deserved or not didn’t really matter, Kon knew Arsenal still resented Nightwing and Kaldur and Wally as much as he resented Green Arrow and Black Canary - and yeah, it was their thing, Kaldur had said it, so had the others, but one thing was Nightwing and Arsenal fighting, because Arsenal and Tim did it too, but another was Nightwing implying Tim was not good for them.

 

Tim was the best thing that had ever happened to them, he was sure. 

 

And he knew Bart, Jaime and the others would agree with him. 

 

“Fuck you,” Roy hissed, removing his wrists from Nightwing’s hold and slowly rubbing the flesh one with his metal hand. 

 

“Yeah,” Cassie hissed, her voice soft. “Fuck you, you dick.” 

 

Kon nodded, feeling something hot and strong running under his skin. 

 

“A friend thing,” Nightwing sighed, shaking his head. “I saw what you did to Robin, Roy, that’s not a friend thing.” 

 

Arsenal’s scowl deepened, mirroring Kon’s, the heat under his skin coiled violently, like a snake readying for attack.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked. 

 

“You are not a kid like Robin, Roy,” Nightwing continued. “You are basically taking advantage of him. He’s a minor and whatever you are planning to do to him is and will be considered illegal.” 

 

Roy’s eyes widened, as did Batgirl’s.

 

Jaime gapped at the same time as Bart covered his mouth with both hands. 

 

Cassie’s eyes narrowed. 

 

“Did this dick just call Roy a…” 

 

Kon didn’t answer. 

 

That hot, boiling heat lunged out of him, his vision was covered in red. 

 

The whole week of missing Tim and avoiding Nightwing’s attempts to have him back with the ‘old team like old times’ and the frustration of having to hide in what should have been his own house and now Nightwing calling Tim - his soulmate - soft, too soft, something less than what he actually was to him, to them all, suddenly burst forth and without control and in seconds Nightwing was flying backwards from the mats as if pushed by an invisible force and through an open window. 

 

“NIGHTWING!” Batgirl yelled, standing up. 

 

“Holy crap!” Beast Boy said, turning into a bird and flying after Nightwing. 

 

“What the fuc….” Arsenal said, eyes wide, skin pale. 

 

“What the hell did you do to him?” Lagoon Boy hissed, a clawed finger pointed at Arsenal. 

 

“The fuck you think I did?!” Arsenal hissed back. “I’m no meta!”

 

“Then how is it that Nightwing just flew out all of a sudden!”

“How am I supposed to know?!”

 

The training room fell into chaos, everyone screaming, the rest of the team rushing in to make sense of what had happened. 

 

Kon stared at his hands, shocked. 

 

He could still feel it, could still feel the heat and the rage flowing through him, crawling over the ground and the training mats and wrapping itself around Nightwing’s legs because Kon wanted him to just… go… away. 

 

“... Conner?” a soft voice whispered from the doorway. “What did you do?”

 

Kon raised his eyes, feeling all color drain from his face. 

 

M’Gann was there, staring in shock at him, her own lips parted, eyes wide. 

 

“I…” 

 

“What? Conner did this?!” Lagoon Boy said, scowling. 

 

“He’s thinking about it,” M’gann replied. “Loudly at that.” 

 

“I didn’t know Superman had that power,” Kaldur said, taking a step back. 

 

“He doesn’t,” Wally said, distrust and caution clear in the tone of his voice. 

 

Kon suddenly couldn’t breathe, the team was taking a step back and everyone was asking questions and their eyes were on him like a heavy load and he knew what they were thinking - that his power was not one of Clark’s, then it must be from Luthor, must be a trap, must be a villain’s power made to hurt them -  and she had read his mind without consent, again.  

 

He wanted to leave. 

 

He wanted to fly far, far away, where no one could see him, where nothing could touch him. 

 

To hide away from everyone and their questions and their distrust and the way they seemed to take a step back from him and it hurt, it hurt so much. 

 

“His name is not Conner anymore,” another soft voice - a sweet voice, full of light and life and beauty - hissed from the doorway. “It’s Kon-El and it’s around time all of you get it.” 

 

The dark tunnel that had taken over his vision slowly widened to include the whole of the room again and he was slowly becoming aware of Cassie’s warm hand on his arm and Jaime’s strong palm on his back, Bart’s warm presence behind him and even Roy’s tense pose before him, shielding him, they all were. 

 

They were shielding him again. 

 

“Breathe,” Jaime whispered. “We’re here, it’s ok.” 

 

“Superboy just yeeted Nightwing out of a window,” Wally said. 

 

The same voice that pulled Kon out of his panic seemed to light even further in dismissive amusement. 

 

“Is that what it was? Seriously?” 

 

“He was being a dick,” Cassie argued. 

 

The crowd parted and Kon finally felt himself able to breathe again when he saw the small teenager standing by the doorway in the too big red and black hoodie and the ripped jeans, a beaten and worn backpack slung over one shoulder. 

 

“Robin!” Bart beamed, zooming to his side and bringing him over to their side of the gym in seconds. “Thank god you are here!” 

 

“Sorry, I had to talk Batman down,” Tim said, running his fingers over Bart’s fluffy hair in greeting. “What happened here?” 

 

“I painted Kon’s nails!” Cassie supplied nonchalantly. “Also Nightwing called Roy a pedophile.”

 

“He what?” Tim scowled, staring at Roy. 

 

“Superboy threw Nightwing off a window!”  Lagoon Boy argued, clawed finger still pointing at them. 

 

Tim blinked, slowly lowering his backpack, eyes falling to Kon’s clenched, trembling fists.

 

“Can I see your nailart, Kon-El?” he asked gently, placing a palm over Kon’s hand, soft and careful. “Please?” 

 

Kon looked up at him in anguish. 

 

“Cassie doesn’t know how to draw, she used stickers,” he whispered, carefully unclenching his fist so Tim could see his nails. “That’s cheating.” 

 

Tim stared at the painted nails, fingers slowly examining each one. 

 

“Cassie really can’t draw,” he agreed, nodding. “But I like it, it suits you.” 

 

“Not everyone can be like… super talented in everything like you, Rob,” Cassie said, scowling theatrically.  

 

“Hello?” Wally snapped. “Can we go back to the part where Superboy just threw Nightwing out a window? You know? Priorities?” 

 

“It’s only a second floor,” Tim replied, shrugging his shoulders. “He’s had worse.” 

 

“WHAT?!”

 

“Hey, Kon, how did you do it tho? Is it a new power?” Tim asked, his smile still gentle and trusting. 

 

“It was… “ Kon hesitated. “I don’t know, under my skin and then… it burst and covered Nightwing and….”

 

“Like, telekinesis?” Tim asked. 

 

Kon thought about it for a moment.

telekinesis

/ˌtɛlɪkɪˈniːsɪs,ˌtɛlɪkʌɪˈniːsɪs/

noun

1. the supposed ability to move objects at a distance by mental power or other non-physical means.

 

“I think so? But it’s not…” Kon paused, organizing his thoughts. “I felt it, like another limb.” 

 

Tim’s eyes widened behind his sunglasses. 

 

“Oh boy…” Arsenal sighed. “The nerd is truly back.” 

 

“Like tactile telekinesis?” Tim asked, eager. “Can you use it on me?”

“ROBIN!” Kaldur argued, walking towards them at the same time as Nightwing and Beast Boy returned to the training room. 

 

“What? Kon-El would never hurt me, he’s my friend and my comrade, I trust him.”  Tim asked back, visibly confused. “Come on, Kon, try? Please?” 

 

Kon stared at Tim in awe - he usually did, but this time it was special - at his wide, gentle smile and his fearless determination. Tim never feared him, he always knew the exact thing to say, to make him feel human, accepted. 

 

He reached inside himself for the heat that kept running under his skin and slowly, as slowly and as carefully as he could, he reached with it to wrap around Tim’s slender limbs, his small waist, and pulled him upwards.

 

“Does it hurt?” Arsenal asked, his own face reflecting his curiosity, no distrust at all - maybe a little smugness at being defended against Nightwing, but no distrust.  

 

“Huh, not at all,” Tim said, touching his knees with careful fingers. “It feels like a hug, like a full body, hot Kryptonian hug.” 

 

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!” Bart beamed. “Do me next, Kon! I wanna feel the hug too!” 

 

Kon felt himself smile. 

 

“Robin,” Nightwing scowled, walking towards them. 

 

“Nope,” Tim instantly cut him off, a hand extended towards him. “You called a member of my team names. I’m back and I’m taking over.”

 

Nightwing spluttered, eyes wide behind his mask. 

 

“What?” 

 

“You said it yourself!” Tim reasoned. “This is my team. Not yours. Mine.” 

 

“I was…” 

 

“I don’t care,” Tim interrupted again, his smile turning smug. “This is Young Justice, Nightwing, not Old Justice so I’m taking over!” 

 

Kaldur and Wally gaped behind Nightwing. 

 

The room went completely silent.

 

M’Gann, still in the doorway, looked heartbroken. 

 

Lagoon Boy instantly went to her side to comfort her. 

 

Beast Boy’s cheeks turned red. 

 

Suddenly Arsenal snorted, laughing loudly, freely. 

 

“O-OLD JUSTICE!” he guffawed. 

 

“They are old!” Cassie joined in his laughter, resting her side against Kon’s, unable to keep upright. “Old Justice, this is the best.”

 

Bart started to laugh as well, though it was obvious to everyone present he wasn’t sure what the joke was about - most likely to him they were all old people - wrapping an arm around Jaime who was covering his mouth with a hand. 

 

“B-but,” Nightwing hesitated for a second. 

 

“Superboy is as old as we are!” Wally cried, indignant. 

 

“Yeah!” Nightwing yelled. “He’s as old Justice as the rest of us!” 

 

Cassie, Arsenal and Bart turned to him in askanse. 

 

Kon looked at Tim, at his smug smile and his trusting eyes, still floating in place, carefully held by this new-found power of his.

 

“I’m six,” he said simply.

 

“He’s six,” Tim agreed, shoulders shaking with laughter. “So shoo!”

 

A whine escaped Nightwing’s lips. 

 

“I’m telling B!” he cried as he stomped out. 

 

“You do that,” Tim mocked, sticking his tongue out. 

 

Kon felt his own smile grow as he basked in the cheers from the others, his team, his friends. 

 

And he knew everything would be alright. 

Chapter Text

They had been fighting for a while, and it was a mess.

 

That gel - goo, Bart called - thingy-moster was almost unstoppable, strong enough to withstand being hit by Kon himself, and fluid enough not to melt if Jaime blasted it with all he - and that fried inside his head - got. 

 

Thank god they had the foresight to lure it away from the city, but the forest they were in was getting a prompt beating. 

 

And they were all already soaked to the bones in goo. 

 

Kon didn’t like it, at all. 

 

He was wet, slippery and uncomfortable and he was mainly sure he stank and there was no end in sight to this fight because all the thinking members of the team were working together, had been working together for the last hour and still had no answer. 

 

It wasn’t that easy, if Kon was honest with himself. 

 

It was a slippery goo-monster that slipped through their grasp at the best of changes and seemed to have an endless supply of energy from somewhere and he just wanted to go home and tan and nap for like, a day. 

 

“Eyes on the prize big boy!” Roy snarled, using his shoulder to propel himself towards the goo. “How’s the analysis going buggy!?”

 

“I’m on it!”  Jaime screamed, fingers dancing in the air without a set pattern, eyes wide under his helmet. His lips parted from time to time muttering chemicals and compositions and formulas that seemed far too advanced for them. 

 

Kon didn’t say a thing. 

 

But he knew he wasn’t the only one regretting the fact Tim wasn’t with them. 

 

Because the moment the team had been called to this particular emergency mission, Tim had been away himself in an alternate mission for Batman that Nightwing had been too busy to do himself and Kon missed him. 

 

So much. 

 

Nightwing had told them that as soon as Tim’s mission was ready he would come back to base and meet them all there. 

 

And Kon worried Tim would do it, would come tired and aching from his own mission, disoriented in that way  he usually got when he hadn’t slept for a day or two, sluggish and cranky and actually cute, but instead of Kon being there to welcome him and to take him for a TTK powered warm nap, Tim would find the base alone, would see them fighting and, despite how utterly exhausted and in pain he was, he would race to their help, because Tim was amazing like that. 

“We need to wrap this up,” Kon hissed, punching the ground to stop the monster’s razor sharp claws from reaching him and Cassie. 

 

“If you know a way to stop a slime monster that can go hard as steel for a moment and then go soft so we can’t punch it and is heat resistant I’m all ears!” Cassie snapped back, her ponytail already sticking to her face, increasing her frustration. 

 

Arsenal grabbed onto Bart’s arm as the speedster got him out of the way for the third time, eyes narrowed. 

 

“Hey Buggy!” he shouted suddenly. “Stop analyzing the whole composition and look for a binding agent!” 

 

“A what?” Jaime asked, stopping his search. 

 

“That thing definitely has a component that makes it go hard and soft, we need to know what it is!” Roy replied, flicking more goo in his direction. 

 

Cassie and Kon looked at him.

 

Arsenal scowled. 

“I might not be as smart as Robin but I’m an Arrow! I’m smart too!” he snapped, punching the fist coming their way. 

 

“I didn’t say anything!” Cassie giggled as she lassoed the monster’s arm and pulled backwards. 

 

It worked, for a moment, until the goo turned soft once more and the lasso slipped through. 

 

Kon was about to say something, and Roy could tell, because he shook his mechanic arm in his direction and Kon ended up with a mouthful of smile in his mouth. 

 

He scowled. 

 

Not okay, Arsenal, they were supposed to be friends now. 

 

Right?

 

He cracked his knuckles, ready to grab him and throw him face first into the goo when Jaime’s triumphal voice ran around them. 

 

“GOT IT!” he cried, readying his guns and joining in the fight. “It’s tungsten and copper! The goo uses tungsten and copper alloy!” 

 

“That’s metal right?” Cassie asked, eyes glinting. “So we heat it up until it melts?”

 

“Are you insane?” Roy screamed. “Do you know how hot we would have to make it to melt it?”

 

“A lot?” Cassie said, fists raised. 

 

Arsenal facepalmed. 

 

“Bart?” he asked. 

 

“A thousand degrees fahrenheit!” The speedster supplied helpfully, sliding down the monster’s back with a happy ‘weeee`~. “Supie can totally do it but we would create a flaming lava crater in the middle of the forest first!”

 

“Oh,” Cassie lowered her fist. “That sounds like a bad idea.”

 

“You don’t say,” Roy hissed. “No wonder Robin makes your homework for you.”

 

“Hey!” Cassie protested, but was stopped by Bart who stopped right in between them. 

 

“You said tungsten AND copper?” he asked, almost vibrating with excitement. “Then it’s easy!” 

 

Cassie and Roy blinked at him, confused. 

 

Jaime stared for a moment. 

 

“Oh! Freezing!” he said, nodding. “If we use cold, the copper will conduct the cold and the tungsten will go brittle!” 

 

“Brittle means we can punch it, right?” Kon asked, fists clenching. 

 

Cassie looked at him, then at the others. 

 

“Okay, we cover for Kon-El while he superman’s this slime bitch to oblivion!” she ordered, raising into the air. 

 

“On it!” Roy nodded, standing to his side. 

 

“Yeah!” Bart said, running once more. 

 

“Aim for the legs first, Kon,” Jaime advised, taking flight as well. “We have your back.”

 

Kon nodded at them, feeling the weight inside his chest slightly relieved. 

 

He liked having a team again. 

 

He took a deep breath, thinking of Clark and how they trained his new-coming powers as soon as they appeared under Pa’s watchful eye, and he focused on the monster’s dripping legs - ew - before thinking with all his might that he needed his breath to be cold, colder than the snow in winter, colder fortress of solitude, colder than cold itself. 

 

He released his breath, eyes narrowed, ignoring the wails of the monster as its legs turned a strange grey-blue-green, the dripping of the goo slowing down more and more. 

 

Until it stopped. 

 

And so did the monster’s advance. 

 

Kon blinked, shocked. 

 

So did the others. 

 

“AW YIS!!” Cassie yelled, flying towards the right leg, fists ready. 

 

“Let’s go!” Roy roared, aiming for the left one. “Holy shit that’s c-cold!” 

 

They both punched at the same time, producing a deafening crack as they did. 

 

“Another one Kon!” Jaime urged. “We are cracking this slime ball once and for all!” 

 

“Call the base to report our victory Bart!” Cassie said at the same time, punching the now stiff legs over and over, cackling like a maniac when the now brittle monster crumbled before her strength. “DIE BITCH! DIE!”

 

Kon obeyed, freezing more of the monster as soon as his teammates got out of the way, feeling pride burst inside of him every time the other teens cut a leg, an arm, Roy even deepening his metal fist into the thing’s chest. 

 

“On it!” Bart laughed, reaching for his comms. 

 

“I’m bagging it!” Jaime reacted, producing some sort of yellow-ish bag-net-thingy and grabbing as many frozen pieces as he could. “This smells so bad!” 

 

“So do we!” Cassie said cheerfully, helping him with the biggest parts. “I need a shower ASAP!”

 

“Who wants to bet Robin is going to hose us down before we even set foot back home!” Roy laughed as well, eyes still glinting with the violence they had just unleashed, breathing ragged. 

 

Kon thought about it as he started helping with the containment. Yeah, knowing Tim? He would definitely look at them for a second, an eyebrow raised, his nose wrinkled as he smelled them, and would reach for the garden hose at the back of the base to clean them up before they even made it inside and, as he would say, tracked gunk inside their home. 

 

Kon could almost envision it, the way he would huff at them and protest when Bart wrapped his arms around him, wanting praise for a mission well done, and Cassie would hug him as well, if only to rub some of that stinking, disgusting goo in his pristine clothes and they would fight and Roy would laugh and Jaime would sigh at them but he would smile as well and Kon would obediently let himself be hosed down like a dog because that was the right thing to do, he would even help Tim get clean as well and he would get one of Tim’s tender smiles in return. 

 

It would be wonderful. 

 

“Maybe we should clean up before we got home then?” Jaime suggested sheepishly, exhaustion clear in his movements. “I can go get some water off the ocean? And we can bottle the rest of the goo just in case?” 

“You are a genius!” Bart giggled, nodding. “I’ll help you!”

 

“Or we could call Kaldur or something? He has water powers…” Roy suggested, and then seemed to pause, thinking about it for a second. 

The rest of the team looked at him. 

 

Silent. 

 

“If you want…” Cassie hesitated. 

 

“Nah,” he said in the end, huffing. “I bet he and the other teams are busy. No need.” 

 

Jaime sighed. 

 

“I’ll go get us some water then,” he said, taking to the air once more. “Don’t move.”

 

“We won’t, “ Cassie nodded at him, one hand on Roy's shoulder. 

 

Kon looked at Roy's  profile for a moment, silent. 

 

Yeah, things between him and Kaldur seemed to be getting better, from what Kon could see. He had heard them talking in whispers in the dead of night, one of Kaldur’s hands on his own, his eyes warm but hesitant. 

 

Wally had come after their last confrontation and declared himself Switzerland, whatever that meant, Kon didn’t know, but after screaming at each other for a moment, Roy and Wally had done something and they were okay-ish as well. 

 

Nightwing was the issue for Arsenal, apparently. 

 

After their fight, Nightwing had tried to approach Roy to talk as well, but hadn’t been very successful, Roy had snapped at him, angry and hurt even to Kon’s eyes, before leaving the older man alone. 

 

Kon kind of got it, it was Nightwing’s almost blind desperation to pretend everything would be alright was heavy with expectations. He didn’t like it either when he had tried to use it on him, because Kon himself didn’t really want to go back to the ‘good old times’ Nightwing remembered and his enthusiasm for them just… hurt. 

 

And Kon hadn’t been abandoned like Arsenal, like Roy, had. 

 

Or maybe he was?

 

Whatever the case, by the third time Kon saw Nightwing approaching Roy for another ‘talk’ he had told Tim who had locked himself with Roy in a room for a couple of hours when Kon pretended he couldn’t hear the other teen sob, and they had come out with a plan of interventions at the ready, because, as Tim said in absolute seriousness, Roy wasn’t ready for Nightwing’s desperate brand of optimism. 

 

And until he was ready and he expressed it so out loud, their little team within the team would make sure they wouldn’t be alone if they could help it. 

 

“No maiming tho,” Tim instructed, nodding. “And if it gets bad enough, you call me.”

“What if you aren’t home?” Cassie asked, eyes serious, already set for their small, secret mission. 

 

Tim had then looked at Roy, at his hunched shoulders and his clenched hands, at the way he didn’t want to look at them and his teeth sank on his lips to stop them from moving without his permission. 

 

He sighed. 

“If I’m not available, you call Black Canary,” he said finally. “She will be given one chance, remember, just one, and Roy will determine if she passes the test, no one else.”

 

Kon understood in the way no other member of the team could. Because when his own protocol had been put to the test, his non-tim emergency contact had been Miss Lane herself, who had descended upon the base like an avenging angel, all sharp angles and narrowed eyes, her dark hair swaying behind her as she stormed in, pursed her lips when someone, maybe Bumblebee, maybe Beast Boy, Kon wasn’t sure, questioned her. 

 

She had snapped her fingers once, twice, gaining the attention of every single member of the teams, before her manicured nails pointed at Kon, who had been overwhelmed, trying his best to breathe and holding onto his telekinesis with all his mind, before she snapped. “Kon-El, you are coming home with me.” 

 

Kon had been by her side before Bart himself could even move and then those steely eyes of hers had turned toward Kaldur, narrowed, flinty, glinting in the low light. 

 

“Do better,” she hissed as she wrapped her skinny fingers around Kon’s warm hand and she had stormed out with him, her heels the only sound echoing in the hallways until they were alone and  Kon could feel the warmth of the sun on his skin and her soft arms wrapped around his neck, his face pressed against the soft fabric of her jacket and her voice that had just been glacial and commanding a few seconds ago, whispered sweetly in his ear that she was there, she would protect him, he could breath now. 

 

And he had. 

 

Miss Lane had passed the test Tim had put for her. 

And she was, to this day, his emergency contact. 

 

And Tim, wonderful Tim, had convinced Roy of the same, because he needed people outside of their little team, because he didn’t have a Clark or a Miss Lane like Kon did. 

 

They hadn’t called Black Canary yet, however. 

 

Cassie and Bart were experts in interference and Tim, so far, was also a master of excuses and polite misdirections that made Kon think he must have learned from someone that definitely wasn’t Batman or Nightwing, because he could waltz around them at the best of times with words alone. 

 

Kon got Roy, got his train of thought of feeling alienated and hesitant. 

 

Of not wanting outside help because it would mean everyone else would know what had happened. Would open the door for other members of the team - mainly Nightwing - to come as an unneeded back up because the older man was reaching a point that he was understanding he had fucked up in ways no simple apology could fix and he needed to make things right, no matter if Roy wasn’t ready for him yet. 

 

So yeah, even if Jaime was tired and Bart was literally running on fumes, it was better for them and Kon himself to help this time. 

 

Just some water and they would be clean and ready to go back home, where Tim would be waiting for them with his usual small smile and warm beverages because he would just  know  and they would be able to rest. 

 

He took flight as well, thinking he could maybe concentrate and make a makeshift pool for them to clean themselves and then have Jaime hose him down. 

 

Efficient, if he could say so himself. 

 

Jaime listened to his idea with a grateful smile and Bart instantly jumped in place that he would definitely want to swim in the super-pool, so he concentrated, his eyes closed, reaching with those hands that weren’t his hands, towards the water a few feet away from them and he felt himself cupping a small amount - enough for Jaime to sit in as he washed the goo off - bringing it towards them and holding onto Jaime’s weight when he carefully got in. 

 

“You even made the water warm, bro!” Jaime said as he started washing, eyes closed in bliss. 

 

“That… wasn’t intentional,” he said as he concentrated. 

 

“It is welcomed though,” Jaime said simply. “You’ve been training hard.”

 

“C… Superman has been helping me, this is not one of his powers but… he is trying his best,” Kon said, feeling himself smile as he remembered all the times he had hung Clark upside down from his feet when he got too wordy and too nice and Miss Lane applauded and cheered loudly because she was grateful to him. 

 

Bart nodded, trying to jump into the water as well, only to be repelled by one of Jaime’s beetle wings. 

 

“I’m glad he’s able to help,” Jaime said as he got out, soaked but clean, that same glint of understanding in his eyes his mom had whenever Kon and the others were around her. 

 

“Yeah…” Kon nodded. 

 

“My turn!” Bart yelled, cannon-balling into the water, his small height making it possible for him to swim and splash around happily. 

 

“You are supposed to get clean, Bart,” Jaime reminded him, arms crossed. 

 

“I’m doing i!” Bart argued, instantly rubbing at his fluffy hair to get as much goo as possible off. “How’s the head going, Suppey!” 

 

“So far so good,” Kon admitted. “But I feel you moving around, it’s weird.”

 

“So it’s kind of like a hand?” Jaime asked, interested. 

 

“Kind of, but not really…” Kon tried to explain. “It’s like an awareness, not a feeling perse, if Bart moves it doesn’t hurt but I can know where he is pressing.”

 

“Fascinating,” Jaime said, smiling. 

 

“Kon you are a genius!” Cassie beamed as she flew towards them, Roy holding onto her arm. “We’ll get clean in no time!”

 

Bart took the chance to jump out of the water and Cassie dropped Roy and instantly made her way in, sighing as she felt the water against her skin. 

 

“It helps with the goopy-ness but not with the smell though…” Bart said as he shook the water off of him, his normally fluffy hair getting fluffier by the friction. 

 

“We should think about what to do about that,”  Roy said. “Robin called while we were waiting for you three, he’s back in base and will be expecting us soon with pizza.”

“He’s the best!” Bart squealed. “I’m so hungry.”

 

Jaime laughed, offering his hand so Bart could vibrate him dry as well.

 

Kon felt himself smile, relief spreading all over him at the thought that Tim was home and safe. Unconsciously - or as he had been doing for a while since he discovered he had Clark’s super hearing - he tuned in to Tim’s heartbeat, the sound soothing to his ears as usual. 

 

Despite how accelerated Tim’s heartbeat was at the moment. 

 

Kon frowned, confused. 

 

Tim had just come after a mission. 

 

There was no logical reason for his heartbeat to be so fast. 

 

Was it?

 

“Kon-El?” Cassie asked, floating towards him. “Are you okay?”

 

Kon didn’t hear her, he couldn’t, not when Tim’s heartbeat gave a small stutter, his pulse grew sluggish, and Kon could finally focus on his breathing, short and ragged and wet. 

 

As if he was suffocating. 

 

Before any of his team members could react he was flying to the air at top speed, faster than he had ever flown before,, fists clenched, heart beating fast against his own rib cage, eyes frantic, reaching base in seconds to find it deserted, quiet, dark. 

 

“Tim?” he asked, searching with his eyes, willing all his powers to work in tandem to find his soulmate. 

 

He could steal hear his heart sluggish against his ears, his breathing as it grew faint. 

 

There!

 

He knew he was flying through the floors and on the back of his mind he hoped he wasn’t destroying the base to the ground but he had priorities and he needed to reach the third floor right now.

 

There in the middle of the floor, laying on the monument to fallen heroes, was Tim.

 

Laying on a pool of his own blood and legs curled in an impossible angle, chest slowly rising and falling as he struggled to breathe. 

 

Kon rushed to him, eyes checking for his injuries, checking his broken ribs that fortunately didn’t pierce his lungs, carefully moving his dislocated arms aside until he finally saw the slash crossing his neck, piercing the artery.

 

Tim’s pale blue eyes looked at him, at his worried face and tear filled eyes. 

 

“K…” he tried, his lips stained in red. “K-k…ko…”

 

“It’s fine, it’s okay…” Kon whispered, reaching with his TTK to stop the bleeding, knowing  in the back of his panicked mind that he had to be infinitely careful, just to cover the artery but not to push too hard or he could crush Tim’s delicate windpipe, he could push one of Tim’s ribs towards his heart with a single thought. “I got you.”

 

“B… Bru…” Tim struggled to say. “Dan… gr…” 

 

“What?” Kon asked, his own breathing growing rapid as his hands pressed against Tim’s snow white throat were painted in red with his blood. 

 

“J…sn…” 

 

Kon felt panic take over him, if he moved an inch, if he lost concentration for a single second he would lose his soulmate, Tim was going to die. 

 

But how was he supposed to get help if he couldn’t….

 

Tears rolled down his cheeks. 

No.

 

He couldn’t let Tim die. 

 

He couldn’t die. 

 

Kon swallowed. 

“CLARK!” he started screaming, his own back curling downwards, instinctively protecting Tim’s broken body with his own. 

 

“CLARK HELP!” he sobbed, hoping against all hope that Clark could hear him, no matter where he was, because Clark had promised he would be there when he needed him and he needed him the most right now. “CLARK PLEASE HELP ME!” 

 

A single tear rolled down Tim’s eyes as his eyelids dropped, his breathing evened in what Kon hoped was unconsciousness. He wanted to check, he wanted to  make sure, but his  muscles wouldn’t obey him. 

 

Kon remained unmoving, covered in gunk and blood and tears until the sonic boom signaling Clarks arrival echoed around him.