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The first time it happens, Tim is pretty sure he's dreaming.
Tim goes to bed the way he usually does - hair damp and skin scrubbed pink from showering off the sweat and dirt from patrol, dressed in one of Dick's old t-shirts and a stolen pair of Kon's boxers. It's rare that Tim has to wait up on Conner - typically he's already in bed by the time Tim gets out of the shower - but tonight Tim crawls into bed by himself and just starts to nod off when Conner comes in through the window.
“Hey,” Conner mumbles, pressing a kiss to Tim’s hair. “Was checking in with Clark about something.”
Tim grumbles something unintelligible, snuggling further into the blanket.
Conner laughs. “Be there in a minute, babe.”
A few minutes later Conner slots into the bed behind him, and Tim drifts off to sleep -
- only to be woken up an indeterminate number of hours later.
Tim frowns. He scrunches his toes up close to his feet and shivers. Tim's always had pretty shit circulation, and Kon's biggest complaint when they had started sharing a bed had been Tim's freezing cold feet pressing up against him in the middle of the night.
That wouldn't be a problem, Tim had argued, if Kon would stop hogging all the blankets.
Tim reaches a hand out, trying to feel where Kon had stolen the blankets out from right under his poor cold toes - honestly, the nerve - only to realize that Conner is tucked up right under him. Conner's arms are wrapped around Tim's middle, one of his biceps basically acting as a pillow. His skin is warm-hot everywhere they touch, even through the layers of their pajamas.
Tim scrunches up his face. He forces his eyes open so that he can hunt for the blanket that had probably gotten pushed to the foot of the bed some time ago.
Huh, Tim thinks when he squints out the blurry-sleepiness from his eyes. Has the ceiling always been that low? Tim untucks a hand from Kon’s octopus hold, reaches up and -
Touches the ceiling.
That wakes Tim up a little more.
Tim blinks. He twists - carefully, now that he’s actually semi-aware of his location relative to the ground - so that he can look down. He sees the blanket, the plush, oversized duvet that had been lovingly selected for him and Conner by Alfred and Ma Kent, crumpled up at the end of the bed. The bed that happens to be six, maybe seven feet below Tim.
Tim sighs. He is absolutely too tired to deal with this right now.
So, Tim curls up closer to Kon, and presses his chilly feet right up against Kon’s bare shins. Conner twitches a little, but otherwise doesn’t stir, and Tim is out like a light.
***
The second time Tim thinks it's a fluke.
“You coming to bed?” Conner asks, draping himself over the back of Tim’s desk chair.
“In a minute,” Tim says distractedly, still scrolling though lines upon lines of eye-straining computer code. His eyes ache a little from staring at the blue light. He reaches out to grab his coffee mug, and makes a vague sound of displeasure when he finds it empty. “Could you get me another mug?”
“ Tim ,” Kon says in that chastising way that Tim’s pretty sure he picked up from Ma Kent. “You need to sleep.”
“I just need to finish this up,” Tim insists.
Conner sighs, and, in one superspeed blur, turns off Tim’s monitor and scoops him up in a fireman’s carry.
“Kon!” Tim squawks, pounding his fist against his boyfriend’s back to no avail. “Put me down!”
“Nope,” Conner says, unbothered. He deposits Tim in the bathroom, standing in front of the door to bodily prevent Tim from leaving. “Brush your teeth, that code’s not going anywhere.”
“ Kon, ” Tim whines in that annoying, grating way that never fails to get on Conner’s nerves.
Conner gives him a severe look, and Tim wilts under it.
“I’m too wired to sleep,” Tim admits after a moment of silence. “The past week's just… been a lot.”
“Aw, babe,” Kon says sympathetically. He pulls Tim into a brief hug, kissing the top of Tim's head. Kon reaches over and opens the medicine cabinet, pulling out a purple bottle. He takes the lid off and hands it to Tim.
Tim squints at the bottle. “Melatonin?”
“They’re melatonin gummies ,” he corrects with a smile. “Take two and then it’s off to bed with you.”
Tim takes two out and chews them up. They don’t taste great, admittedly - sickeningly sweet in that way that children’s cough syrup tends to be - but he brushes his teeth and the taste is mostly hidden under winter-fresh-mint.
Despite the gummies, Tim still tosses and turns for a good while, sleeping only in fleeting patches. He manages to fall asleep properly for what must be an hour or two, and then wakes up groggy and a touch disoriented.
Tim thinks he must have turned to the edge of the bed, because he has one leg hanging in midair. He tucks the stray limb back in, closer to his body. Only, he can't seem to find the mattress. What...
Tim opens his eyes. “What the fuck, ” he says out loud.
Tim is floating, again . Or, well, Conner is floating, and has taken Tim with him.
“Conner,” Tim hisses, trying to wake him up. “Kon!”
Conner grumbles, pulling Tim in a little closer. He turns over midair and Tim can’t help but yelp, grabbing onto Conner’s arms so he doesn’t go crashing towards the ground.
Once Conner’s settled and Tim isn’t afraid he’s going to fall, he tries again. “Conner Kent, wake up!”
Conner does not.
Tim groans, tries his best to get a little more comfortable while ensuring he won’t fall. It’s not like he was going to get a good night’s sleep anyway.
***
The third time - well, now this is just getting ridiculous.
Tim wakes up to an unfortunately familiar sensation.
His feet are cold and dangling in the air, and Tim doesn’t even need to open his eyes to know that Kon’s levitated in his sleep and brought Tim right along with him. Tim can’t help but groan.
“Kon,” Tim says.
No response.
“Conner!”
Twitching, but not much else. Tim sighs.
“CONNER!”
Kon’s eyes fly open, body jerking violently mid air. Tim squeaks, gripping onto him for fear of his life.
“What? What’s - what’s happening?” Kon half-babbles, still disoriented from sleep.
“Look,” Tim hisses. “Down.”
Conner blinks, once, then twice, before glancing down at the bed far, far below them.
“Oh,” he says sheepishly. “Uh, sorry.” He lowers the two of them back onto the bed.
Tim rolls away from Conner’s hold and glares at him. “This,” he says sharply, “is the third time this has happened.”
“Uh,” Kon says, blinking. “Oopsie?” He smiles.
Tim groans. He buries his face into the pillow. “I swear to god if this happens again I’m chaining you to the bed,” he tells Conner, muffled into the pillow.
There’s a moment of quiet before Kon says, “Kinky.” Tim can hear the smirk in his voice.
Tim smacks him with a pillow, and Kon just laughs.