Chapter Text
“Please”
“No”
“Tim–“
“No.”
“Come on, man. It’ll be fun!”
They sit in the empty classroom at lunchtime. It’s a sunny day for Gotham, which Conner has learnt to mean a lighter shade of gray. He’s gotten used to a lot of things the past couple of months, since he moved here, but he doesn’t think he could ever feel fully at peace with the gloomy weather.
It’s not like he hates it. He get’s to see his best friend every day, he could never hate it.
“I just don’t understand why you’re so against the idea,” Conner says. Tim looks up from his phone, an eyebrow raised in incredulity.
“You’re kidding me,” he says with a groan. “Kon, it’s a musical. A fucking musical–“
“I still don’t see what the problem–“
“Kon, I’m not going to perform in a musical!”
When Conner told Tim about his transfer to Gotham Academy, Tim was ecstatic. But when Tim encouraged Conner to join the theater department, he meant it more in a you-need-to-diversify-your-curriculum-if-you-want-to-get-into-a-good-college way and also a bit in a please-stop-distracting-me-when-I’m-working-on-WE-business,-you-need-a-new-hobby way. He definitely did not mean it in a discover-your-newfound-love-for-theater-and-beg-me-to-audition-for-the-school-musical way. And yet, here he was. Doing exactly that.
“But why not?” Conner whined. “You’re a great singer!”
“Ok, one?” Tim scoffed. “Karaoke at the tower is hardly the same as high school musical theater. And two? I’m already crazy busy. When would I find the time? It would be extremely time-consuming and I don’t even have an interest in theater!”
“Oh, come on, man! I know B benched you for the next couple of months. It’s the perfect opportunity to branch out!” Conner said.
“Don’t remind me,” Tim grumbled.
And it was true. Tim looked down at the cast on his arm. He’d broken his wrist three days ago on patrol. It wasn’t even for a particularly heroic reason. He hadn’t really slept in a while, busy with everything from school to work to nighttime work to Titans’ business, when he figured he’d take a second to catch his breath and maybe get his head to stop pounding so damn hard.
He’d fallen asleep on a fire escape.
He fell. Hard.
Steph had laughed herself to tears when he told her.
“It’s not even a cool injury,” Tim muttered. “Just my fucking wrist. I’ve had way worse.”
“You can’t really fight with a broken wrist,” Conner argued. “Or grapple safely. And knowing you, you’d definitely try.”
“Still–“
“Still, you’ve got some free time!” Conner said. “And we’re getting pretty desperate. Show’s in three weeks and we are running out of people to ask.”
When Neal Oseman announced he was moving to Central and he wouldn’t be able to perform, the drama club collectively lost its shit. In a place such as Gotham Academy, there weren’t many kids interested in the performing arts, so the club was already sparse enough. They could hardly cover an entire cast with people doubling as backstage-crew when not on-stage, they had no one left to cover Neal’s role. Their one understudy was already covering for someone else and Conner wasn’t confident in Mr. Nelson’s ability to pitch their little club to the image-obsessed, rich kids that made up the rest of the student body. Especially for a show like this one.
“Tim, please. It’ll be fun! We’ll get to act all in-love and shit!” He pleaded, dramatically holding onto his friend’s hand. “It’s fun and it’s queer and it will ‘diversify your curriculum’.”
Because that was it, wasn’t it? It wouldn’t be so hard to find someone to audition if it was any other show. But it was Bare and that meant that whoever auditioned had to be okay with being gay with none other than Conner Kent, farm boy extraordinaire.
Tim knew there weren’t many other kids out in their school. Not everyone had access to adults as supportive as Bruce was when it came to this sort of thing. Being an already out bisexual man himself, he’d known how to handle the situation when the press outed Tim. The incident had happened over a year ago and Tim still got a sinking feeling in his stomach when he remembered the look on Jack Drake’s face when he’d read the article. It had been an overall pretty shit time in Tim’s life.
And it had gotten shittier from that point.
His one saving grace? His best friend. Conner. Kon. Who was staring at him with the most pathetic case of puppy-eyes Tim had ever seen.
“Geez, you’re worse than Dick,” he grumbled. Tim knew it was a bad idea. He knew he wouldn’t have any trouble pretending to be in love with Kon (as self-destructive as it would be, all things considered). And he even knew the songs already from listening to Kon practice relentlessly. But it was a bad idea. Because Tim might have some free space in his calendar and he knew his family would love to see him doing something not work-related (they’d been on his case since The Great Tim Breakdown: April Edition). But there was still one considerable problem: he was horribly in love with his best friend. And acting the part of tragic lovers was going to break his heart. Or worse, Kon would figure it out.
Kon. His best friend. The man who’d saved Tim more times than he could count. In more ways than he would ever admit. Kon, who had moved to Gotham to be closer to Tim after the aforementioned breakdown, so that Tim wouldn’t have to be alone. Kon, who held his hand through his dad’s funeral. Kon, who’d wormed his way into Bruce’s heart after countless fights advocating for his right to remain by Tim’s side, no-metas-in-Gotham rule be damned. Kon, who went through all the trouble of making sure Tim kept himself alive when he couldn’t find the strength to leave his bed. Kon, who’d taught Tim what real love was. What caring for someone was.
…Tim would move mountains for him.
“Ok,” Tim sighed. “If I were to hypothetically agree, what would it mean?”
The smile Kon gave him could’ve melted the arctic.
“Well we’d have to get you up to speed, but you’ve always had a fantastic memory, so it wouldn’t be too hard. I could come over to your place to practice scenes whenever you’re free. And we would have to get Neal’s costume fitted for you, since he’s… well…”
Tim’s eyes narrowed coldly.
“Since he’s what, Conner?”
“Uh… since he’s… taller… than you?” He grinned sheepishly.
“Do you want me to say no?”
“No! You are so much cooler than him, Timmy! And he’s not even that tall!” Kon panicked. “Taller people are so overrated. I hate tall people. So much.”
Tim held back a grin. His best friend was so brilliant yet so stupid.
And he was too good for him, dammit.
With a sigh, Tim ran a hand through his hair. I am going to regret this.
“Ok, fine.”
“Wait– Fine?!”
Tim couldn’t help but smile at Kon’s openly shocked expression.
“Yeah, ok fine,” he said with a shrug.
“You’ll do it?”
“Yes, I’ll do it.”
“Seriously?!” Kon laughed, throwing his arms around Tim in a violent hug. “YES! Tim, you won’t regret this. It’ll be so much fun!”
“I’m regretting it already…” Tim’s voice was muffled, his burning face squished into his friend’s chest.
“Have I mentioned you’re the best friend in the whole-ass universe? Because you are.”
“Kon?” Tim whispered.
“Yeah?”
“If you don’t let me go, I’m pissing in everything you love.”
Kon let go of his friend, laughing at his disgruntled expression.
“You know…” he began, smirking evil.
“No.”
“That would require…”
“Don’t say it.”
“You to piss on yourself,” Kon gasped dramatically. “Is this your way of telling me you have a piss kink?”
“Kon, I swear to gOD–“
“You’re the one who implied it!” Kon said. “Anyway, I’m going to text Mr. Nelson now. He’s going to be so happy.”
Kon made to leave, squeezing Tim’s shoulder as he went, but he paused by the door.
“Hey,” he called out.
Tim looked up at him. In his ridiculously rumpled uniform, wearing his ridiculously useless glasses and a ridiculously happy smile. Tim couldn’t imagine there being a more breathtaking sight.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. You’re the best.”
And raising his hand in a wave, Kon left the classroom.
…I am very much going to regret this.