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Back when Krypton was still standing, there was something that every Kryptonian had. It was a gift that they were blessed with from the moment they were born. It was called the SEsüwidon or, better translated in English as a Soul Bond.
The SEsüwidon exceeded human constructs of love. It was an eternal connection, pure contentment and security. It was the union of the soul, bridging together souls that would complement each other. Soulmates could feel each other’s emotions. They understood at the core of feeling. This connection had always existed in Kryptonian society, but when conflict arose and lives were threatened, it evolved into something more.
Instead of a connection of emotion, feeling how your soulmate aches internally, you would feel their pain.
It was a way to ensure your soulmates safety. To know when they need to be protected. It saved millions of lives over the centuries of Kryptonian civilization.
Tim Drake did not feel the SEsüwidon until he was a teen. He didn’t quite understand what it was at first. All he knew was that he was feeling phantom pains of needles and bruising grips on his arms.
It wasn’t until he met Kon-El for the first time and the bulky teen shook his hand a little too hard, pulling away as if he’d been burnt, that he found out what those phantom pains were.
There was something that just felt… right with Kon. Things that Tim never thought he could feel. Calm. Safe.
But he didn’t feel whole.
Clark said that this bond was supposed to make you feel whole. Like you finally found the pieces of you that you’ve been missing come together.
But there was a gaping hole deep in his chest. Kon felt it too. There was something missing.
Someone.
Then Tim and Kon began to feel pains they didn’t recognize.
It started with excruciating pain, like their bodies were being stretched and scorched, every inch searing with an incessant burn.
And then it was a different kind of pain. Familiar pain. Pain from combat.
Whoever this third person was, they were causing their soulmates lots of pain, and they had no idea they were.
The first time Tim met his other soulmate, he tried to kill him. But he felt it. He felt the pain too. And that made him stop.
Jason Todd, the boy that Tim stalked for the better part of his pre-teen years, was his other soulmate.
Tim was a little excited. Or maybe a lot. Okay, definitely a lot. He had to be. But Jason was far away. He had been hurt and he was hurting.
But their bond, it helped him. It helped bring him back. It helped tether him.
And the rest? Well, they figured it out. With another death and another resurrection, learning to love, and retraining themselves to avoid getting hurt, they found a way to be together. They found a way to make it work. And Tim finally felt whole.
Tim has become a master at pushing through the bonded pain with a smile. When you’re physically bonded to a super(not-quite)human superhero and a… Very Physically Involved vigilante because of alien reasons unknown to the average human, you have to learn how to deal with it.
That doesn’t mean it’s easy.
When Tim picked up the old alias of Neal Caffrey to infiltrate the FBI and weed out the corrupt agents, that meant there would be many more scrutinizing eyes on him and his behavior. Which means Tim has to work extra hard to cover up whatever the bond sends his way.
And most days it’s easy. But then there are some days, days like these, that Tim really wants to knock some sense into his soulmates, but that would mean knocking it in himself too and, well, he gets enough of that from them.
1
The team stands in a conference room, hunched over the table as they examine a portrait believed to have a secret code embedded into the pattern.
“So, it’s completely identical,” Peter says. “No signatures. No hidden messages in the fabric of her dress. No shapes in the water detail. Nothing.”
“I’m telling you, the portrait is clean,” Neal says.
“There has to be something!” Peter exclaims exasperatedly.
“Maybe there isn’t,” Diana says. “This could be a red herring.”
“Red herring,” Neal mutters. “Wait.” He squats down at the edge of the table and tilts his head. “The texture. It didn’t make sense to me why they would have put so much emphasis on the koi texturally when they were supposed to be underwater. But look.” He pulls out a magnifying glass. “On the sides of the raised texture, there’s morse code.”
“Neal, you’re a genius,” Peter says.
“Of course I am. That’s why you keep me around right?” He smirks. “It’s that or my heartstopping good loo—” Neal suddenly keels over, clutching his stomach, gasping ragged breaths.
“Neal!” Peter shouts. He rushes to his side. “What’s wrong?”
Neal only groans in response, falling to his knees, fist clenched over his heart.
“Diana, call 911,” Peter says.
“No,” Neal croaks out. “I’m fine.”
“I don’t think this constitutes as fine, Neal.”
“It’ll… it’ll be done soon. It’s fine. I-it happens,” Neal says, voice strained.
“What is ‘it?’” Peter questions.
“It’s just… psychogenic pain. Completely neurological.”
“Are you sure?” Peter asks warily.
“You won’t find anything physically wrong with me,” Neal says. His eyes squeeze tight as he whimpers in pain.
“Well, you’re sitting this one out,” Peter says.
“No! I can—”
“I’m not going to make you work when you’re like this, Neal.” Peter checks his watch. “We’re already on overtime anyway. Go home, Neal. Rest.”
“But I—”
“We’ve got it,” Peter reassures him. “Go. Home.”
TIM
Tim does go home. The cab ride is almost unbearable but he has just enough control to trudge up the stairs and collapse on his bed.
He pulls up the news livestream and sees that Superboy is currently fighting giant robots in Central City.
As a robot throws him into a wall, Tim feels pain blooming across his back.
Thank Rao for Kon’s superhealing. This’ll all be gone tomorrow.
2
“Okay, try this one.”
Neal looks at the slimy, gray paste on the tiny toast suspiciously. “Are you sure this is edible?”
Elizabeth rolls her eyes. “Yes, it is edible. Now, try it.”
Peter watches in amusement as Neal taste-tests for El’s upcoming event. It has become Neal’s unofficial second job to help her with the catering because Elizabeth doesn’t have the most reliable taste buds.
Neal chews it slowly, face morphing from slight petrification to surprise. “Oh, wow. That’s good. What is that?”
“Olive and ricotta spread,” Elizabeth replies.
“That’s definitely a winner,” Neal says. His eyes drift to the tomato tartlet. “Now, what are those?”
“You wanna try one?” Elizabeth asks.
“Yes please.” Neal grins as he takes a bite, chewing slowly. Suddenly, he coughs roughly. He holds his neck as his eyes shut tightly.
“Oh my God! Neal!” Elizabeth exclaims.
Peter rushes behind him, ready to do the heimlich.
“Not choking!” Neal says quickly.
Peter relaxes. “Went down evil avenue?”
Neal nods. “Yeah. Just, uh, swallowed wrong.”
“Was it good at least?” Elizabeth asks.
Neal smiles. “Delicious.”
TIM
Tree <3: sorry babydolls. got caught up with some shitty guys messing with the ladies by the docks. one managed to get a hit to the throat. are you alright?
Tim’s heart swells at Jason’s message.
babybird: I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. Are you okay? My wrist is a little sore.
Tree <3: recoil hit me at the wrong angle
Tree <3: rubber bullets. don’t worry
Tim shakes his head.
babybird: I wasn’t worrying. I trust you.
Tree <3: i promise i’m done for the night. get some sleep, my darling.
Tree <3: i love you
Tim flushes. Even after all these years, Jason still finds ways to make him giddy, stomach fluttering with metaphorical butterflies.
babybird: I love you too.
3
Peter hates it when they’re runners.
He and Neal are currently chasing the woman who has been smuggling counterfeit currency inside fake designer bags (really, it’s just double forgery, it’s almost too good) through the streets of New York.
Peter sighs in relief as he sees Diana trip the woman and apprehend her, Jones following quickly behind to cuff her.
Peter turns to Neal, ready to tell him that they’re all good, when he sees Neal crumble to the ground.
“Woah! Neal!” Peter grabs him by the shoulders before he can completely collapse onto the sidewalk. “You alright, kid?”
“W-weak,” Neal says.
Peter chuckles, though still concerned. “You should get some more exercise then.”
Neal snorts, but doesn’t respond. Instead, he presses his palms to his temples, groaning softly. He’s swaying as he sits, not even complaining about dirtying his expensive suit on the disgusting New York sidewalk.
“You think you can stand?” Peter asks.
“Yeah,” Neal slurs, clearly exemplifying that he can’t. He tries to pull himself up, but his legs betray him and he falls to the ground again.
Peter scrambles to grab him before he lands face first onto the concrete.
“Yeah, let’s just… get you out of the way.” Peter drags Neal to a bench where he slumps back, head lolling to the side.
“How the hell did you pass your physical?” Peter mumbles.
Neal snorts again. “That’s… you’d think it’s funny if you knew… if you knew…” And then he passes out.
TIM
Tim wakes up in a hospital bed, IV hooked up to his arm and Peter looking at him with a furrowed brow.
“Uh… hi?” Tim says.
“Don’t do that again,” Peter starts firmly.
“I’ll… try not to?”
“You shouldn’t have kept running if you—” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. Sorry.” He smiles softly. “How are you feeling?”
“Better, now,” Tim says. “You wouldn’t happen to know where my phone is?”
“Here.” Peter hands it to him.
The first message is from Jason telling him that “kon had a run in with kryptonite” and that “he’ll be ok” and that he “shouldn’t worry too much.”
“Everything okay?” Peter asks.
“Yeah.” Tim nods, giving him a cheeky grin. “Everything’s great.”
4
“So, what are we looking at here?” Neal reclines in a chair, feet propped up on the table, stretching a rubber band with his thumbs.
“Pretty straight forward bond forgery,” Peter says.
“How much are they worth?”
“800 grand.”
Neal whistles. “Well we better catch ‘em, huh?”
“We just have to find the evidence.”
Neal makes grabby hands at Peter. “Gimme gimme.”
Peter rolls his eyes and passes him the bond.
“Oh! Easy. This ink is a green black. Usually this type of bond is a blue black.”
Peter squints at the paper. “It’s black.”
Neal sighs. “I’m sure you’d also say that this paper is alabaster.”
“It’s white?” Peter replies, confused.
Neal points at him. “You are a tragedy, Peter. An absolute tragedy.”
“Well, it’s not like I—”
Neal lets out a sharp gasp right as his chair topples backwards, his body hitting the floor with a thunk. He whines at the impact. “Ugh they’re not gonna be happy,” he mumbles.
Peter holds back a smile. “You okay, Neal?”
“Fine!” Neal replies.
“Maybe that teaches you to not lean in chairs.”
Neal glares at him with a pout.
“Now, get up,” Peter says. “We’ve got work to do.”
TIM
Tim slips out his phone and snorts at the texts.
Tree <3: what the FUCK was that???
Kon UWU: sorry. krypto wasn’t happy that i didn’t play fetch with him so he tackled me to the ground to get my attention.
Tim chuckles.
babybird: The impact made me fall off my chair. I know it hurt. Sorry!
Kon UWU: you okay, polly pocket?
Tim sighs at his phone fondly.
babybird: Embarrassed myself in front of Peter, but other than a bruised ego, no other bruises.
“Neal?” Peter says, breaking Tim from his thoughts.
“Sorry,” Tim says, pocketing his phone. “Let’s get going.”
5
Peter and Neal are schmoozing at a high class gala and auction, making sure that the pieces aren’t being swapped or have been swapped for fakes.
Neal is thriving, not only because he’s surrounded by beautiful art, but also just in this setting. It’s like he was made to be part of the elite, despite his background. Peter is impressed how easily he slips into the persona, blending with the crowd far better than Peter can.
Neal is hovering at the snack table, devouring cheese, when Peter approaches him.
“You investigating the validity of the cheese there, Neal?” Peter asks.
“This definitely isn’t the good brie,” Neal replies. “I would know.”
“Oh, so you’re a cheese expert now?”
“You’d be surprised.” Neal pops another cheese covered cracker in his mouth.
“Alright. Enough snacking. We have to get back to our—”
Neal lurches forward, nearly tumbling onto the snack table.
“Woah! You alright?” Peter asks.
“I-I have to make a call,” Neal fumbles to find his phone, leaving the ballroom, but not before he falls to the ground, phone toppling out of his hand and head colliding with the tile.
“Neal!” Peter exclaims.
The partygoers freeze, gaping at the commotion.
Peter rushes to his side. Neal groans, clutching his leg, not even acknowledging the cut gushing blood on his forehead.
“What happened?” Peter questions.
“T-the… thing. My thing,” Neal manages to stutter out.
A woman rushes over to them. “I’m a doctor,” she says. “Let me take a look.”
Neal winces as she goes to touch him, his hand going to hold his cheek.
“Does it hurt there too?” she asks.
“N-no, it’s fine.”
She tilts his head and clicks her tongue. “Head wounds bleed a lot but I don’t think you’ll need stitches.” She rummages through her purse and pulls out a little box. She places a row of butterfly bandages to his forehead.
“Thank you,” Neal says.
“Do you want me to clean this up?”
“I can,” Neal replies.
She doesn’t look too happy about that response.
“I’ll go with him,” Peter says.
She smiles. “Hopefully that won’t scar.”
“Knowing my luck, it will,” Neal says.
Peter claps his shoulder. “C’mon, kid. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
TIM
Despite his constant reassuring that he doesn’t need Peter to help him walk, Tim isn’t quite sure he believes himself.
There’s a dull ache in his cheek, obviously from a blow. Not a normal fist, though. Some sort of metal gauntlet at least.
He can’t be sure if the pain is coming from Kon or Jason, but considering the fact that he’s not getting the telltale signs of Jason fighting back, he thinks it’s Kon. Which makes it more concerning considering that he doesn’t seem to feel any kryptonite.
So, Kon was taken as a civilian.
Tim and Peter make it to the bathroom and with sluggish precision, Tim cleans himself up with the scratchy paper towel.
“How are you feeling?” Peter asks.
“Not good,” Tim replies.
“We ever gonna talk about this?”
“Nope,” Tim says, popping the p.
Peter frowns. “Neal…”
“I’ve had this condition since I was a teen. Usually it’s barely disorientating, let alone making me inoperative.”
“You mean it happens more than just what I’ve seen?”
Tim nods. “It’s like chronic pain. You learn to ignore it.”
Peter looks at him with sad eyes. “I’m sorry. That sounds hard.”
Tim pauses. “It can be. But it’s… there’s more to it than that. It reminds me that they… that I’m alive.”
Peter is about to push more when Tim is suddenly overwhelmed with debilitating pain. His muscles tense, slightly spasming, as his knees buckle beneath him.
Kon is getting electrocuted. His soulmate is getting electrocuted.
“C’mon Jason,” Tim whispers to himself through gritted teeth. “Get him out.”
His phone buzzes in Peter’s hand.
Tim goes to grab it, his grip so tight that he worries he’ll somehow shatter it.
Tree <3: kon got caught up in a hostage situation. luckily, red hood is in the neighborhood. sorry for the pain you’re about to get.
Tim sits on the floor, enduring the ache in his fists and what feels like a stab wound to the gut (which he hopes is Kon. He doesn’t want to wish this upon either of his soulmates, but Kon heals faster).
Peter just watches with worry as Tim writhes in pain, though minutely.
After this incident, Peter insists that he see a doctor.
The doctors don’t find anything and Tim can tell that Peter is stumped.
+1
In his defense, he had no idea that the stolen property included explosives.
Let’s back up a bit.
Peter and Neal had been tracking down stolen shipments of college textbooks that were being redistributed for lower prices.
They finally found the warehouse and headed after hours. It seemed like a simple case, but when they entered, Neal was the one who noticed the trigger on the ground, yelling for Peter to watch out. But he was too late. The doors slammed shut behind them and trapped them in the collapsing building.
The two were dragged out of the rubble, Neal completely unconscious and Peter barely staying awake.
Peter can already tell that Neal took the brunt of the explosion. Protecting Peter, he was hit straight on by the blast, sending them both into the wall.
They put Peter on the good painkillers and before he could comprehend, he was fading away blissfully.
Peter opens his eyes and his first thought is “Neal.”
Which apparently are also his first words.
A hand pushes him back down to the hospital bed. “Don’t push yourself too much.”
“Where’s Neal? Is he okay?” Peter asks, his voice hoarse and throat dry.
“Mr. Caffrey is stable. We expect a strong recovery.”
Peter relaxes, body drooping into the stiff mattress.
Elizabeth comes rushing in soon and she takes his mind off of everything, including the throbbing in his back and temples.
It takes a few days, but they finally deem Peter ready enough to leave the room to visit Neal. Of course, it’s in a wheelchair, but he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
What Peter isn’t expecting is two men in Peter’s room, one on each side holding his hands. Their heads snap up.
They’re both… enormous, to be honest. The one on his left has features that are almost chiseled, messy dark hair and pale green eyes behind thick frames. He is extremely muscular, but his demeanor is reserved and he holds himself as if he is trying to make himself smaller. He wears a flannel and worn jeans. The one on his right is equally as broad, thick muscles hidden behind a leather jacket. He also has dark hair with a white streak and eyes that are unnaturally teal. Unlike his counterpart, he holds himself with very assured confidence.
“He just fell back asleep,” the one with glasses says.
“Oh,” Peter says. “How… how’s he doing?”
“He’ll be just fine,” Glasses says. “He’s stronger than he looks.”
“He better be fine,” Leather Jacket grumbles.
Glasses moves his hand away from Neal’s to take Leather Jacket’s and squeezes it gently. “He will be.” Glasses breaks out of his trance of staring into Leather Jacket’s eyes and turns to Peter. “Oh, where are my manners? I’m Conner. Me and Neal, we go way back.” He holds out his hand.
Peter raises an eyebrow, shaking his hand. “Should I be worried?”
Realization dawns on Conner’s face. “Oh, gosh, no, I’m not… not in the same business as Neal. We met before he got into all that.”
Peter’s eyebrows shoot even higher. “I didn’t realize he kept in contact with people from… before.” He turns to Leather Jacket. “And you?”
“Can’t say the same.” He smirks cockily.
Conner slaps him on the arm. “Don’t give a federal agent a reason to want to arrest you.”
“I haven’t done anything incriminating yet!” Leather Jacket says holding up his hands in surrender.
Conner looks at him with suspicion. “Yet.”
“Please don’t give me any reason to arrest you,” Peter says. “I don’t think I have the energy to arrest anyone.”
Leather Jacket softens. “How are you doing? Neal had mentioned—”
“I’ll be fine,” Peter says. “I’m more worried about him.”
“We came as soon as we found out he got hurt,” Conner says.
The sentiment cements his good impression of him. “Well, it’s nice to know that Neal has people in his corner. Especially ones that care as much as you do.”
There’s a soft groan that sends all their attention to the bed.
Neal blinks drowsily. He smiles lopsided, a carefree, comfortable kind of smile that Peter didn’t even see him give Kate. “Hi.”
Leather Jacket pushes Neal’s hair back, petting it slightly before placing a hand on his cheek. “What are you doing up already?”
“You’re being loud,” Neal says with a mischievous grin, eyes still slightly glazed.
Leather Jacket turns to Conner with an amused expression. “Oh. We were being loud.”
Neal’s gaze strays from Leather Jacket and meets Peter’s eyes. “Peter! You’re up.”
“Finally let me out of bed,” Peter says with a shrug that makes his shoulders sting.
“Are you—”
“I’m fine. And you?”
“Yeah. I’m fine,” Neal says.
“He’s a big fat liar,” Leather Jacket says. “He’s still got a lot of pain.”
Neal glares at him.
“You know you can’t hide it from us,” Conner says.
Neal sighs. He interlocks his fingers into Conner’s. “When can you break me out?”
“You’re not breaking out of anywhere,” Peter says sternly. “You are recovering and you’re not coming back to work until you’re fully recovered.”
Neal groans. “But it’s so boring!”
“Too bad,” Peter says, lips quirking up.
“We not good enough entertainment for you, honeybunches?” Leather Jacket asks with a pout.
Neal narrows his eyes. “You’re a nuisance is what you are.”
Leather Jacket grabs his chest above his heart in feigned pain. “That hurts, babybird. I guess that means you don’t want me to go get you donuts at that bakery down the street that’s just out of your radius that you’re always talking about.”
Neal’s eyes go wide. “I take it back. You are a gift. You are the light of my life.”
Leather Jacket laughs. He turns to Conner and smiles. “I’ll be back.” He pets Neal’s hair one more time before pressing a chaste kiss to Conner’s lips and heading out.
Peter watches the interaction, perplexed.
“He better get me the sprinkley ones,” Conner mumbles.
“Your blood sugar okay?” Neal asks. “I feel a little… uh, you look a little lightheaded.”
Conner nods. “I think a donut might help though.”
Neal turns to Peter. “Because I am a gracious, giving man, I will share with you a singular donut.”
“Wow, thanks,” Peter says dryly. He goes to face Conner. “How did you hear about Neal…” He waves his hand. “Are you his emergency contact?”
A complex twist of the lips that Peter can’t comprehend forms on Conner’s face. “You could say that.”
“So, you got any embarrassing stories about Neal?” Peter asks.
Conner grins widely, Neal already shaking his head in protest.
“Has Neal ever told you about the time he fell out of a tree trying to chase a squirrel? Because let me tell you. It hurt like you wouldn’t believe.”
There it is again. The little glint in his eyes when he mentions pain, like it’s some sort of inside joke that Peter doesn’t get.
At Neal’s death stare, Conner holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I could be telling the shrimp cocktail story.”
“You slice your tongue open on a shrimp tail once and suddenly you can never live it down.”
“You can never live it down because it was in response to seeing Jason in a red button down and then promptly dribbling cocktail sauce down your chin.”
“It was a first date! I was nervous!” Neal exclaims.
“I didn’t get that kind of reaction on our first date,” Conner says, hands on his hips.
“Oh shut up.” Neal shoves at his arm.
“You two dated?” Peter questions.
They both freeze, obviously having forgotten Peter was there.
“Uh,” Neal gulps, “Yeah.”
“Oh,” Peter says. “I didn’t know you were—”
“Into men?” Neal nods and Peter winces at his bluntness. “Yup.”
“Jason wouldn’t happen to be…”
“The one that’s so whipped that he’s fetching me donuts nowhere near this hospital who is probably balancing the box in his lap on his motorcycle trying not to drop them onto the street?” Neal asks. “Yeah.”
“So you’re all still friends then?” Peter asks.
Neal’s brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
“Because you used to date them. But now they’re...” Peter doesn’t want to pry so he stops himself.
Neal opens his mouth and then he closes it. He opens it again and then he closes it.
Oh. Oh.
Well. Can’t be the strangest thing he’s learned about Neal, and if he’s happy and staying out of trouble, then Peter won’t say anything.
“So,” Peter says. “The squirrel and tree?”
Conner beams. “Okay. Neal was sixteen and he’s hopped up on painkillers after surgery—”