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The problem with decorating for literally anything is that Bart has Impulse control issues, and Cassie doesn’t have enough super-speed to stop him when he’s really excited about something.
Kon almost does, though, and also if Kon sits on somebody, they’re not getting up until he lets them. Especially because he’s twice Bart’s size and has tactile telekinesis. So Cassie appreciates that, honestly, that’s very helpful of him.
“Guyyyyys,” Bart whines, attempting to vibrate through the couch again. It’d work better if, again, Kon didn’t have TTK. “Oh, come on! I could get the whole base done in like five seconds!”
“That’s what we’re trying to avoid here, Imp,” Kon reminds him dryly. “We already let you put up this year's Santa memorial, we’re not letting you do the whole place.”
“Why would you want to avoid getting it done?!” Bart protests.
“Because we said we were gonna do it together, Bart,” Cassie says. “Which requires us all being here and contributing. Together. Tim is not here yet, therefore we are not all here and contributing, therefore we are going to wait.”
“Tim is an atheist!” Bart says. “A Jewish atheist!”
“Christmas decorations don’t, like, stop working if you don’t believe in them, man,” Kon says, then raises an eyebrow at him. “And aren’t you an atheist?”
“That’s between me and the Speed Force,” Bart says, making a face at him. “But Tim is. And Cassie knows gods and doesn’t even pray to them, and you just keep anthropomorphizing your broken cloning tube!”
“Poor ol’ Nanny McTubers, may she rest in peace,” Kon says wistfully, laying a hand over his heart before shrugging casually and squishing Bart deeper into the couch. “Or pieces. Kara’s been explaining Kryptonian theology to me lately, actually, it’s kinda interesting. We’re gonna do a thing for Nova Day, whatever the fuck that is. Not gonna lie, I don’t even know if it’s actually religious or just a bank holiday but she seems pretty hype about it.”
“Oh, should we get her something for it?” Cassie asks. “When is it?”
“Not sure if it’s a gift-giving thing yet, I’ll get back to you on that,” Kon replies with another shrug. “And she’s still calculating the date, apparently it’s a little complicated. Dunno why she won’t just ask Kelex to do it but she’s insisting she’s gotta figure it out herself.”
“This is miserable,” Bart says flatly. “I’d rather fight Gorilla Grodd backwards in high heels. I’d rather get turned into an adult again and have to pay taxes. I’d rather have to have a civil conversation with Thad.”
“Tell me if you figure out how to do that, actually, he’s such a fucking pill I bet anything that works on him’ll work on Match too,” Kon muses, craning his neck to glance towards the door of the common room. “Oh, hey, Tim’s coming.”
“. . . ‘Tim’s coming’ as in ‘Tim just walked in the front door’, or ‘Tim’s coming’ as in ‘I’m creeping on my friends’ heartbeats again and Tim just left Gotham’?” Bart asks dubiously, eyeing him with all the suspicion of a speedster previously burned.
“Eh, split the difference,” Kon replies with a casual shrug.
“I hate you so much.”
“You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”
“I want to throw you in the bay!”
“You literally couldn’t even lift me, man.”
“YOU'RE RISKING A LOT ON THAT ASSUMPTION.”
“Do you have an ETA for Tim, Kon?” Cassie asks, rearranging the boxes of decorations on the table. Bart bites Kon, then yelps in pain. Kon gives him a pitying look and pats his head; Cassie just rolls her eyes. Like Bart hasn’t learned that lesson ten times over, geez. Don’t bite the Kryptonian hybrid. It’s just not worth the dental bills.
“Well, it’s Tim,” Kon says. “So either about ten seconds or six hours. Give or take.”
“Isn’t he grounded from Zeta access until–” Cassie starts, and then she very clearly hears a Zeta tube go off and a moment later Tim walks into the room with a battered old cardboard box tucked under his arm.
“That was twelve seconds,” Bart accuses.
“Yeah, that’s a real oversight on my part,” Kon says dryly. “If I let you up, will you not do all the decorating without us?”
“No,” Bart says.
Well, at least he’s honest, Cassie thinks in exasperation as she waves at Tim.
“What took you, man?” Kon asks. “Bart's been climbing the walls. Literally. There's footprints on the ceiling now and I'm gonna get stuck cleaning ‘em.”
“I can see that,” Tim says, looking amused. Bart tries to vibrate through the couch again and then starts muttering future-curses under his breath.
“Why am I the problem?” Bart demands. “Tim's the one who's late!”
“Sorry,” Tim says, hefting the box under his arm. “Dick was digging something up for me.”
“What something?” Cassie asks curiously. The box is unlabeled, except for a scribble of bright green marker that might resemble a Christmas tree. If someone squinted, anyway. Squinted very, very hard.
“The Titans’ old Christmas ornaments,” Tim says, and everyone lights up at once.
“How did they survive this long?” Bart asks in disbelief. “Hasn’t the Tower gotten blown up like, four times now?”
“Only three, but who’s counting,” Tim replies with an easy shrug. “Dick kept them back at the manor between holidays, apparently.”
“Are they the shitty licensed ones from when they were teenagers?” Kon asks gleefully. “The ones that had to get recalled because of the lead paint?”
“No, no, please tell me they made them themselves,” Cassie begs, clasping her hands together. “Please tell me popsicle-stick picture frames and pipe-cleaner candy canes are involved. Please.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Tim replies mildly, setting his box on the table with the rest of the decorations. “Merry Christmas. You’re all welcome.”
Cassie immediately opens the box, because if Bart opens it he’s gonna decorate everything and if Kon opens it he’s probably gonna have to let Bart up, which will also lead to Bart decorating everything, and–
“Oh my gods,” Cassie says in absolute delight, clapping her hands to her face. “Tim!”
“Thought you’d like that one,” Tim says with a smirk. Cassie, in utter reverence, picks up the absolutely hideous tree topper made out of a knock-off Barbie doll wired to a big golden star and covered in festive holiday-themed glitter.
“Holy shit,” Kon says, then starts laughing. “Is that supposed to be Donna?”
“Why isn’t she wearing pants?” Bart asks, squinting doubtfully. “Why is she so sparkly?”
“It’s the doll from the cheap cash-grab collection some assholes who didn’t even have permission did when I was in third grade, with her original costume!” Cassie says gleefully, holding it up in display. “I had one of these! I still have one of these! Gods, she’s so ugly, I love her.”
“Her eyes are painted on crooked,” Bart says, still squinting doubtfully at the tree topper. “And she’s still not wearing pants, either.”
“Bart, decorate the common room tree,” Cassie orders immediately. “I need to put Donna-star on top in all her glory. Like right now. This second.”
“That is the most dangerous thing you’ve said all day, Cassie,” Kon says, though he does let Bart up, and Bart vanishes in an electric crackle with a triumphant crow and has the whole tree decorated before Kon can even finish his sentence. “Including when you told me to fly into that evil giant robot dinosaur’s mouth this morning, just for the record.”
“It didn't have an AI operating system, Kon,” Cassie scoffs, flying over to the tree and neatly placing the Donna-star atop it in utter delight. “Therefore it wasn’t evil, it was just programmed by someone evil. Not the same thing. Duh.”
“Right, stupid me,” Kon says wryly, then disappears in a blur of super-speed to catch Bart before he can decorate anything else.
“Tim, you’re my favorite for the rest of the year,” Cassie declares, beaming at Donna-star. She’s beautiful. She looks so tacky, as do the ridiculous amount of various fish-themed ornaments and bird ornaments with tiny glued-on masks and candy cane-striped lightning bolts and just literal full-sized arrows that Bart presumably got out of Tim’s box. But especially Donna-star. Donna-star is a disgrace. Cassie’s gonna take a selfie with her and use her for her cell phone wallpaper until next Christmas.
“Glad you like her,” Tim says, looking amused. Kon and Bart are definitely still in the room, judging by all the rushing air and crackling lightning and tiny sonic booms, but Cassie is too busy admiring Donna-star to be concerned about Bart’s presumable decorating rush or Kon’s also-presumable un-decorating rush or if Kon’s just chasing Bart across the ceiling again. Irrelevant concerns, currently. Cassie only cares about Donna-star; nothing and no one else.
“I have never loved like this before,” she says matter-of-factly. Tim laughs. Kon tackles Bart to the floor and Bart yelps indignantly. The room is half-decorated and they’re both tangled in multiple garlands and covered in six different colors of tinsel, which is a neat trick since they definitely did not buy any tinsel.
Also, there's a bunch of holly trapped in Bart's extremely fluffy hair. Cassie muffles a snort of laughter, then grins down at them.
“How’s the decorating going, guys?” she asks mildly.
“Fine,” Bart says through gritted teeth, attempting to shove Kon off him.
“Totally fine,” Kon agrees, shoving him back down one-handed with a triumphant smirk.
“Yeah, I can see that. The tinsel is very flattering. Brings out your eyes,” Cassie teases with a snicker. “And the holly, of course.”
“I think that’s mistletoe, actually,” Tim observes, tilting his head.
“It’s definitely mistletoe,” Kon agrees.
“What the sprock is mistletoe?” Bart asks with a frown.
“. . . I mean, we could tell you, or we could show you,” Kon says with a slow, wolfish grin as he leans down a little farther over him. “Y’know. If you’re really curious.”
“This is a trap, isn’t it,” Bart says, squinting up at him suspiciously. “This is totally a trap.”
“Sounds like coward’s talk, Imp,” Kon replies, grinning wider. Bart scowls up at him.
“Sounds like asshole’s talk,” he shoots back. Kon laughs, then plucks the mistletoe out of Bart’s hair and tucks it behind his own ear.
“Your loss, buddy,” he hums. “Heyyyyy, Tim, Cassie . . .”
“Oh, you found the excuse for mistletoe,” Cassie says wryly. “Did Bart even actually find that or did you just sneak it into the base in your Thigh Pouch of Holding?”
“What an accusation, Wondy!” Kon says in mock-offense, then tilts his head back to look up at her from the floor and bats his lashes at her with a sly grin. Unfortunately, he looks adorable, the little bastard.
Well, big bastard. But whatever.
“I notice you found an excuse to make yourself the example for Bart, either way,” Tim says with a chuckle, shaking his head. Kon puts on a little pout and, unfortunately, continues to look adorable. Cassie should kiss him. Or kick him out the window. Or both, maybe. She could multi-task it if she had to.
“Timmmmm,” Kon says, still mock-pouting. “Cassie. You’re really both gonna leave me hanging here?”
“Yes,” Cassie and Tim say in unison. Kon pouts.
Bastard, Cassie thinks, sharing a long-suffering look with Tim. An amused kind of suffering, but definitely a kind of suffering. Then they accidentally knock their heads together because they both lean in to kiss him at the exact same time, like the idiots they are.
“Ow,” Tim mutters, and Kon laughs in delight. Cassie spares a moment to be mortified, then takes advantage of having a harder head than Tim's to dart back in and kiss Kon after all. He makes a happy little noise, and Bart makes an indignant one.
“Why does Kon get the first kiss?” he protests. “I’m the one suffering through subjective time right now!”
“Kon’s got the mistletoe,” Cassie hums, and kisses him again. Kon laughs.
“What?” Bart demands. “What does that have to do with anything? Why is that a thing? Why is this century so grifing weird?!”
“I mean, you could also be taking advantage of the mistletoe, it’s not restricted to me and Cassie,” Tim points out in amusement. “Anyone who’s under it is supposed to kiss each other.”
“I hate you all,” Bart swears, then tackles Kon to kiss him too, which would probably be likelier to actually count as a tackle if Kon weren’t built like a promethium wall, but apparently works for his purposes. He manages not to knock his head against anyone’s, at least, but only barely. Kon loops his arms around him, then cackles smugly and super-speed pins him to the floor.
“You know I’m gonna keep you from doing any decorating now, right?” he asks with a grin, plucking a chunk of tinsel out of Bart’s hair.
“Sprocking asshole,” Bart seethes, then attempts to yank him back down into a kiss, which is about as effective as trying to yank, again, a promethium wall. “You suck!”
“Oh, Mr. Allen, you’re so forward–” Kon starts to joke, and Bart thwaps him upside the head.
“No weird past-slang jokes,” he orders, narrowing his eyes up at him. “Just your dumb past-holiday traditions, got it?”
“Well, if you insist . . .” Kon hums smugly, actually following the yank down to him this time.
“We’re all supposed to decorate, Kon,” Cassie reminds him wryly.
“Hmmm, guess you two’ll just have to find a way to pass the time ‘til Bart and I are ready, then,” Kon says, glancing up just long enough to flash her a wolfish smirk.
“That’s going to take a minute, going by past experience,” Tim says, equally wry.
“You were late first,” Bart accuses.
“Guess I can’t argue with that,” Tim says, then gives Cassie an amused look. “Do you have a way to pass the time, Cassie?”
“Yes, Tim, I will absolutely make out with you under the watchful eye of Donna-star and all her friends,” Cassie replies, smirking back at him.
“. . . you and Kon definitely dated for too long.”
“Are you complaining?”
“. . . . . . pass me the mistletoe.”