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“Class, I want you all to give a big hand to our Gotham High guests, the mentors of the Big Brothers program!”
Tim needed some extra credit, and it was either write a twenty-page social studies essay or stand in an oversized traffic light red t-shirt teaching random skills to fifth graders. Glaring at Damian in the front row, he reckoned he should’ve gone with the paper.
(Kon’s just here as an excuse to skip math.)
The teacher turned to the teens. “Each mentor has been paired with a student. When I read your name, I want you to go stand by them. Tim Drake, you will be paired with Jon Kent.”
Kon clapped Tim’s shoulder with a laugh. “Good luck, babe.”
Tim shot daggers at his boyfriend, who embraced this whole ordeal and even made the mandatory blindingly red shirt look good under his leather jacket. As the teacher went down the list, Jon smiled and slid a note to Tim that read, “Don’t worry, you’ll be great!” with a yellow happy face sticker.
Tim chuckled and ruffled Jon’s hair. “Thanks, kid.”
The teacher said, “Last but not least, Conner Kent, you will be paired with Damian Wayne.”
As Kon walked by, Tim said, “Good luck—you’ll need it more than I do”, to which Kon stuck his tongue out.
The instructions were to spend a day together and the kids had to write about what they learned from their mentors. As much as Tim didn’t want to do this, he needed the points before Bruce saw his grade book. And those points relied on a good review from Jon.
“Alright.” He rubbed his hands. “Jon, I’m gonna teach you all the investigative tools you need on the field.”
Jon’s eyes lit up. “Do we get to see the Joker’s lair?”
“What? No! Who told you—Damian.” Tim shook his head. “We’re gonna do something different. Ever dusted for fingerprints?”
Jon shook his head. “No, but I’ve seen it in movies.”
“We’re gonna do exactly what they do,” Tim said. “Grab your stuff and meet me in the science room in five minutes.”
Jon whooped. “This is gonna be awesome!”
Together, using paintbrushes and baby powder, they uncovered fingerprints gathered from random plastic utensils Tim had picked up from the cafeteria. They taped the dusted prints to white sheets and pinned them along the top of the blackboard with clothespins, and they donned lab coats and goggles like stereotypical Hollywood forensic scientists.
Tim smiled. Finally, someone who takes an interest in what he did.
“—and in 1888, Sir Francis Galton identified ridge terminations and bifurcations as the two most common types of minutiae, but we also have islands, spurs, crossovers…”
He trailed off when he noticed Jon gazing longingly out the window. Tim followed Jon’s eyes to the lawn, where Damian looked two seconds away from punching Kon in the gut.
“Tim, can I ask you a question?”
“Uh, sure?” He gestured to his shirt. “That’s kinda what I’m here for.”
Jon fiddled with the cuffs of his uniform. “Gosh, how I say this? How, um… how do you know if you, like, like-like someone enough to ask them on a date?”
“Of course, you ask me the one question that can’t be answered with a formula.” Tim ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s a… feeling.”
“Wow, thanks,” Jon deadpanned.
Tim put his hands on his hips. “Had Damian been teaching you sarcasm?”
“No,” Jon said sarcastically. “Sorry, just nervous.”
Tim peeled off the blue rubber gloves and chucked them into the trash like a basketball. He turned a chair around and faced Jon. “So. You like someone.”
Jon sheepishly nodded, cheeks reddening.
Tim shrugged. “Then I say be upfront with it.”
“Okay. But… how do you, like, date? What do people do when they’re dating?” Jon asked. “My mom and dad dress up and go to a fancy grown-up restaurant, but that doesn’t feel right for us.”
“What do you two have in common? Try to build something around that.”
Jon scratched the back of his head. “Animals—we do puppy playdates all the time. Art—I like to write and he’s into drawing. Ice cream—there’s this gelato place we go to after every patrol. Monk-E-Monsters. Beating bad guys. Flying together. Food, though he’s a vegetarian. He likes training more than I do, but it’s still a lot of fun. Cheese Vikings, and just, like, any video game or arcade. Did I mention animals?”
“Oh, uh… bzzt.” Tim pressed his phone to his ear, hoping Jon didn’t notice the black screen. “Sorry, I gotta take this.”
He slipped into the bathroom across the hall (a girls’ room, but gender is irrelevant) and locked himself in a stall before dialing Kon.
Okay, getting paired with Damian wasn’t part of the plan. Not to say he had a plan in the first place. Kon only joined this Big Brothers thing to keep Tim company (and to skip his algebra lesson with a teacher that smelled like mustard). He didn’t think he’d actually have to do stuff.
It’s okay. If he can handle dying, he can handle anything.
As they made their way outside, Kon began talking. “I’ve been thinking—”
Damian rolled his eyes. “Alert the press, this is a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.”
No punting children. He cannot punt a child. Not even Tim’s kid brother. Especially not Tim’s kid brother, because then Tim will break up with him and that’s infinitely worse than going to jail for punting children.
“As I was saying,” Kon continued, “all the skills I could offer, you probably already mastered in diapers. All except one.” He put an arm around Damian, only to retract it when Damian balled his fist. “You see, Damian, some people call me a himbo. I asked my friend Bart what that means, and he thought it was a species of hippo. So I asked Cassie, and she told me it’s a dumb, kindhearted jock. Emphasis on kindhearted. Mean jocks aren’t himbos. Being a himbo comes from within—”
“I want to court your brother.”
That stunned all three thoughts out of Kon’s head. “Say what now?”
Damian sneered. “Don’t Kryptonians have super hearing? I wish to take the next step with your brother.”
Kon blinked. “Uh, okay. You asking for my permission or—”
“Tt, of course not.” Damian crossed his arms. “You’re half-alien, how does one attract your kind? I know there is a procedure, seeing as you and Drake…”
Connecting the two dots was easier than connecting the dots on the Red Lobster kids’ menu. Kon opened his mouth to say something, only to have his Rick Astley ringtone interrupt him.
“I’ll be right back.”
He crouched under the bleachers by the baseball field. “Talk to me, babe.”
“You’ll never guess what I found out,” Tim said.
“That Damian likes Jon?”
“I was gonna say that Jon likes Damian,” Tim said, “and Jon’s asking me how to ask Damian out.”
“No way, Damian was just asking the same thing,” Kon said. “I know what we gotta do. Meet me in the staff room after school.”
Kon pulled out the rolling whiteboard as Tim brewed himself a cup of coffee and grabbed snacks from the vending machine. He uncapped the marker with his teeth and scrawled in big red letters: OPERATION DAMIJON.
Tim kicked his feet up on the table. “Damijon?”
“Damian plus Jon. Damijon,” Kon said. “We’re gonna set our brothers up. Now, I know this seems sudden and you won’t agree, but hear me out—”
“I’m down.”
He stopped. “What?”
Tim sipped his coffee. “I’m down. We set them up, Damian spends more time with Jon. And when Damian spends more time with Jon, he spends less time putting cockroaches in my bed. It’s a win-win.”
Kon drew a T-shaped column down the middle. “We need to figure out a way to get them alone to admit their feelings and act on them. We gotta play Cupid.”
Tim asked, “Since when did you become me?”
“Since I realized Jon spending more time with Damian means I get the Xbox to myself. In other words, ten seconds ago.” Kon twirled the marker between his fingers. “What’s a good first date? No idea’s a bad idea.”
“Have them get kidnapped and locked in a warehouse basement together for eight hours.”
“Bad idea.”
Tim shrugged. “Worked for us.”
“Yeah, ‘cause I’m a self-aware himbo and you’re a twink functioning on enough caffeine to kill a moose,” Kon said. “Besides, Clark’s gonna kill me if Jon gets kidnapped. And don’t even get me started on Lois.”
“Rest in peace, it was nice knowing you.”
“Tim!”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Tim said. He plucked the marker from Kon’s hand. “Earlier Jon listed a bunch of things he and Damian have in common—animals, ice cream, flying through the air pummeling cybernetic supervillains. Typical fifth-grade stuff.”
“Okay, first, no supervillains.”
“Stop being sensible, it’s creeping me out.”
Kon scratched his chin. “Animals and ice cream might work, though. And you know where you can find both?”
“Harley Quinn’s apartment?”
“The zoo.”
“Oh yeah,” Tim said. “I was about to say, her place seems like a weird first date.” He pulled out his phone. “I can buy tickets for tonight, and to make sure they get close, I’ll add the exclusive Arctic exhibit pass.”
“Sweet! But how will we know if it works?”
“You have superhuman eyesight and I have access to world-class binoculars. I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Tim thought for a second. “I’ll hide Damian’s jacket, that way he’ll be forced to go to Jon for warmth—we all know how Ma Kent makes her mittens.”
“Awesome.” Kon pressed a kiss to Tim’s temple. “By the way, what should our combined name be?”
Lowkey, Kon could get used to going undercover more often. He should do it more. And he should let Tim pick his outfits more often, because Jason’s jacket plus Dick’s Hawaiian shirt plus Cass’s running shorts? Unparalleled. Truly the pinnacle of haute couture.
(Also, Tim is heckin’ cute in a dress.)
“They’re headed for the Arctic exhibit,” Kon said.
“Finally.” Tim lowered himself onto a bench and took off the six-inch black stilettos. “I’m already getting blisters. Props to Selina for running in these.” He peered through his binoculars and groaned. “They haven’t even held hands yet. Should we do something?”
“We agreed not to butt in.”
Tim tucked the shoes under his arm and climbed into Kon’s arms. “Tim and Kon agreed not to butt in, but we’re undercover. We can be anyone we want.”
“Okay, so we go in, sprinkle in some subliminal messages, and let the subtext do its magic.”
“Glad we’re on the same page,” Tim said. “Also, I’m done walking in these things.”
The exhibit was dark enough to mask the details of their appearances. An aurora borealis danced across the glacial walls. The temperature dropped so drastically Kon didn’t need to pretend to hold Tim close for warmth. Besides them, the only other occupants were a zookeeper, a janitor, and Damian and Jon. The latter two leaned against the railing in front of the polar bear glass, watching the napping white fuzz lump.
“Sure is empty in here,” Tim said loudly in a high, girlish pitch. “And cold. I’m so glad I have you to keep me warm, Fred.”
Kon dropped his voice an octave and copied the accent. “Why, Daphne, this reminds me of our first date.”
“Oh, how romantic!”
Tim grabbed Kon’s face and smashed their lips together (since when was he wearing lip gloss?), effectively short-circuiting the single gear in Kon’s brain.
They pulled away briefly to glance at their brothers.
On the other side of the room, Jon said, “Hey, Dami, wanna grab some food? And maybe get away from those weirdos?”
“I was about to suggest the same thing.” Damian took Jon’s hand and together they made their way toward the exit. “Ice cream sound okay?”
“Sounds perfect.”
Tim and Kon high-fived.