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Tim Drake wakes up naked and groggy underneath a pile of his own clothing. He quickly decides that this is “one of those weekends”.
He blinks and suppresses a groan, not yet ready for the flood of light that reaches his eyes. The surface underneath him feels soft and unfamiliar, and he struggles to identify what it is. It’s not his apartment. It’s not his cot in the Cave. It’s not his room at Titans Tower. Something is wrong.
Almost immediately, one of Batman’s lessons springs to his mind, a remnant of years of classical conditioning from the world’s greatest detective. If you wake up in an unknown place, don’t make any moves until you’ve had a chance to examine your surroundings for information, Bruce’s voice says. A single clue can be the difference between blindly walking into a trap and turning a situation to your advantage.
Tim looks around. He’s in a bed; a four-poster model with an overhead canopy and salmon-colored sheets. Tim sits up, frowning. Who does he know who sleeps in salmon-colored sheets?
Actually, scratch that; who does he know who sleeps in salmon sheets and was apparently willing to strip him naked and leave him in their bed?
Tim has made a lot of enemies in Gotham, a natural consequence of slapping a bat on your chest and chasing after muggers. He’s had people threaten to shoot him, stab him, electrocute him, and “stick him in a frilly dress and tie him to some train tracks” (Joker had apparently been feeling nostalgic). To his knowledge, he can’t think of anyone who’d want to remove his clothes and do unspeakable things to his body. That sort of thing just doesn’t happen to him.
Well, except for that time with Ariana.
And that other thing with Cassie.
And Steph.
And Rose.
And that one villainess. And her sister.
Okay, so maybe he does have a history with this sort of thing.
Tim is just coming to grips with his status as Gotham’s resident piece of man-bait (note to self: stop using terms that Dick made up, he thinks to himself furiously) when a blond head pokes out of the other side of the bed and yawns. She catches sight of Tim and grins nervously. “Hey there, Boyfriend Wonder. Pleasant dreams?”
It’s Steph. Topless.
Tim averts his eyes and tries to pretend that he’s not blushing. On one level, this isn’t really anything new for him. He’s seen Steph like – well, like this on several occasions. There’ve been a few times when he walked in on her changing, once when he was cutting her Spoiler suit off to treat a bad wound, and once when he attempted to get to second base with her in his bedroom. Key word there being attempted.
Those times were different, though – there’s something more intimate about this scenario, something that goes beyond missions and uncertainty and awkward teenage fumbling. From what he can see of her (FACE, thank you, he is most definitely focusing on her face), Steph is happier and more relaxed than he’s ever seen her. Even on their best days together, where it was just him and her and no unsolved cases or disapproving Batman or anything else standing between them, she never looked like this. Steph looks warm, content, rosy, and a little shy. Almost like – almost like –
Tim feels faint. “Steph,” he chokes out, “did you – did we – did we just-”
Steph’s grin shrinks. “Ah. You don’t remember?”
Tim starts hyperventilating and he’s pretty sure that he can feel his pupils dilating and his skin heating up because, well, that little remark just about proves that there was something toremember about last night after all, doesn’t it, what with apparently sleeping with his ex-girlfriend in the middle of what had become a very comfortable working relationship right as Batman was finally about to give him some more breathing room with his solo patrols and his work with the Titans and holy crap he’s thinking faster than Bart talks.
“Tim. Breathe.”
The voice isn’t Steph’s. Neither is the slim form that emerges from underneath the bed, grabbing a sheet and throwing it over herself before Tim’s frazzled mind can process the fact that yes, there is indeed another naked girl in the room, holy probable lesbian threesome Batman.
Steph snorts. “Wow. Seriously, Cass? Have you been sleeping under the bed the entire time?”
Cass shrugs, which does interesting things to her chest and shoulders (not that Tim is noticing this in any way). “Was comfortable. Quiet.”
“You’re like a cat,” Steph snickers, reaching over to playfully rub Cass’ hair. “Whoooooo’s a good little kitty Cass? You are! You are!”
Cass quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t move, letting Steph continue to play with her hair for a few moments before Steph finally pulls away.
Tim looks from naked Steph to naked Cass to naked Steph and naked Cass and back again, trying very hard to not look like he’s staring. He swallows hard, attempting to form a logical, reasoned, and articulate way of expressing his confusion.
“GAAAAAAAAAAAK.”
“Did we break him? He seems a little broken,” says Steph. “Cass, did you break him?”
“Not me,” says Cass, pointing. “Might have been him.”
A bundle under the covers shifts, with Kon’s head poking out from under the sheet. He flashes Tim a lopsided smile. “Sorry about that, dude. I might’ve given you a few bruises in weird places.”
Tim finally finds his voice.
“Is there anyone, ANYONE I know that I didn’t sleep with last night?!?” Tim shrieks, running a hand through his hair like he wants to rip it out by its roots. “Kara? Dick? Tam? Cassie? Jason? Rose? Bart? Are they hiding in the closet? Using the shower? Making breakfast? Who else is here?!”
“Tim. Tim. Relax,” Steph says soothingly. “It’s just us. No one else is involved.”
“Oh, well, that just makes everything better, now doesn’t it?” Tim snaps, his voice jumping a few octaves. “I only had sex with my ex-girlfriend, best friend, and possible half-sister all at the same time.”
“Half-sister?” Kon repeats, wrinkling his nose as he looks between Tim and Cass. “Wait, you guys are related? Aw, man, that’s just nasty!”
“Tim was adopted by Bruce,” Cass states. “I am Bruce’s ward. Relationship… is complicated.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Steph mutters, casting a glance around at the four (still very naked) occupants of the bed.
Tim makes a frustrated little sound in the back of his throat, producing something in between a whine and a growl. “Tell,” he manages. “Last night. Things. Bed. Us. Sex. What. What. What happened?”
“Wow,” says Kon, wide-eyed and a little smirky. “We actually did it. We crashed Tim.”
“Tell. Me. What. Happened.” Tim spits out each word with a snarl, twisting the bedsheets in his hands.
“You really don’t remember?” Steph asks, frowning. “Jeez, that vodka must’ve hit you harder than I thought.”
“Vodka?” Tim narrows his eyes. “I went out drinking?”
“Well…” Kon looks away from him and shifts nervously. “You didn’t go out, exactly…”
And then Tim remembers.
Tim is down in the Cave, sitting on a bench and tinkering with the defense mechanisms of his utility belt. He’d never admit this to anyone (especially Dick or Steph, who’d never let him hear the end of it), but upgrading his equipment has always been a little soothing for him, in a weird sort of way. The Cave deserted, his work schedule put aside, all other distractions and obligations removed so that it’s just him and his tech, his mind focused only on the equipment he knows so well - it’s a stress reliever for him, a way for him to turn his problems and frustrations into tangible progress and results, and he’s taken to doing it whenever he feels particularly frustrated.
He’s been upgrading his belt three times a week ever since he joined the Titans.
Tim wipes his brow with one arm and adjusts his grip on his microtool with the other, ignoring the suspiciously Bart-like voice in his head that’s saying he shouldn’t be down here on a Friday night. He blocks it out, just like he always has. Imaginary Bart doesn’t know what he’s saying. This is a completely valid way of spending his time; it’s both relaxing and efficient. In fact, he’d bet that all the other Bats have a weekly Friday ritual just like this one. At least, he thinks so. He’s never really bothered to check.
A sudden breeze blows right behind him, tickling the back of his neck. Tim sighs.
“Bart, whatever it is, the answer is no.”
A blur of black and red passes by his eyes, and Kon is hovering in front of him looking sheepish. “Uh, actually, it’s me. You wanna hang out?”
Tim folds his arms. “Who let you into the Batcave?”
“Your butler let me come up in through the harbor entrance. He was a little suspicious when he first saw me, but then I told him I just wanted to spend time with you and he said ‘A wonderful idea. Do not bring Master Timothy back until he has had plenty of sun, fresh air, and relaxation. It’s for the boy’s own good,’” Kon says with the worst British accent Tim’s ever heard.
Tim shoots Kon a look, then goes back to his work. “I can’t entertain you right now, Kon. I’m in the middle of an important upgrade at the moment, and it’ll take me a few hours before I’m done.”
“C’mon, Tim!” Kon whines. “I’m bored! Can’t you step away from your belt for a little while and do something fun?”
“No.”
“We could have a team-up!”
“No.”
“Or go to the movies!”
“No.”
“Or have a sparring session!”
“No. Besides, I always win.”
“Arrgh!” Kon throws up his hands. “Fine, we don’t even need to leave your stupid manor! Just please, please, please stop working and actually do something already!”
Tim pauses. He never thought that Kon would be willing to make that kind of concession, especially considering how short his attention span tended to be when he got bored. Against his better nature, he starts to wonder exactly what Kon intends to do if his only plan is to remain in the house. What could he possibly expect to find around this place? The thought intrigues him.
Tim puts down his belt. “Okay.”
Kon blinks. “Okay?”
“Okay,” Tim repeats. “We’ll stay in the manor. So, what did you have in mind?”
“Uh-“ Kon scratches at the back of his head. “I don’t really know. We could look at all of Batman’s cool stuff or snoop through the bedrooms or whatever. What do you feel like doing?”
Tim shakes his head, picking his belt back up. “Forget it. This was a mistake.”
“No no no, wait a second!” Kon says frantically. “We could – we could - ” A crafty gleam enters his eye. “We could see if there’s anything hidden in the Cave that Batman doesn’t want you to know about.”
Tim rolls his eyes. “Batman doesn’t hide anything from me without good reason, and he knows how to tell if his database has been hacked. If he finds me snooping through his files without permission, I’ll never hear the end of it. It’d be pointless, too; he already shares the majority of his information with me anyway.”
“Oh.” Kon looks disappointed. “So there’s nothing around here that Batman keeps away from you?”
“No,” Tim says, then stops and thinks for a moment. “Actually, there is one thing.”
“Whoa,” Kon breathes.
“Careful, you’re fogging up the glass,” Tim admonishes.
Kon jumps back like a scolded child. “Sorry.”
The two of them are up in the study of Wayne Manor, standing in front of an ornate wooden cabinet. Inside are several bottles of aged vodka, accompanied by a set of immaculately polished shot glasses and a matching serving platter. A simple metal lock hangs on the handle.
Kon taps the lock with a finger. “So why’s it all sealed away? Is it that valuable?”
Tim swats his hand away. “Not really. The lock’s mostly because of the minors present in the house. Batman doesn’t want to encourage any self-destructive habits among his team, and he’s not much of a drinker anyway so this is mostly just for show. I think this might belong to Alfred, actually.”
“Why doesn’t he use a high-tech Bat-lock or something if he doesn’t want people drinking it?” says Kon. “I bet any one of you could get through this.”
“All of us know Batman’s zero-tolerance policy on underage drinking, so it’d be pointless to try anything before we turn twenty-one,” says Tim. “Also, visitors come through here pretty often and an advanced lock would draw unwanted questions.”
“Huh,” Kon says absently, nodding. “So, do you think you can do it?”
“Do what?”
“Get through the lock,” says Kon, pointing. “If it’s really that simple, it should be easy for you.”
“Kon, I’m not breaking into Alfred’s liquor cabinet,” says Tim. “Do you have any idea what Batman will do to me if he finds out?”
“Oh, I get it,” says Kon with a growing smile. “You’re chicken.”
Tim gives him his best Bat-glare. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Bawwwwk-bawk-bawk-bawk-bawk!” Kon crows, flapping his arms up and down.
Sighing in irritation, Tim reaches into his right sock and pulls out two small picks. “If it’ll shut you up, then fine.”
Kon stares at him. “Dude. You have lockpicks in your socks?”
Tim shoots him a quizzical look as he sits down next to the lock. “Yeah. I always keep a few tools on me in case there’s an emergency and I can’t get to my suit.”
“Huh. Wow.” Kon scuffs at the rug with his shoe. “Never really thought to do something like that. I guess I can see how it would come in handy for non-metas. So where do you hide your other gear when you’re not in uniform…or do I wanna know that?” he adds as an afterthought, his face twisting up in disgust.
Tim pointedly ignores that comment and begins work on the lock, his well-used picks quickly finding the familiar grooves and holes of an old-fashioned padlock. For a while, the room is silent save the steady clicking of Tim’s work.
The second of three tumblers has just clicked into place when Alfred abruptly materializes in the room, delivering a soft “ahem” that scares the bejeezus out of Kon. The butler looks from the half-open lock to the two teenage boys, folding his arms in that manner that Tim knows far too well. “Master Conner, I do not believe I see any sun, fresh air, or relaxation here at the moment. Perhaps either of you would like to explain why you are attempting to break into the liquor cabinet instead of enjoying the wonders of the outside world like any other boys your age?”
“Look, it was hard enough for me to get him out of the Cave, cut me some slack!” Kon offered, spreading his arms helplessly. “Besides, we’re not even going to drink any of that stuff! I just asked Tim to break open the lock to see if he could!”
Alfred turns to Tim. “Is this true, Master Timothy?”
“Yes, Alfred,” Tim says, not looking away or pausing in his work.
“Very well then,” Alfred says, backing out of the room. “I will trust in your judgment. Do take care of him, Master Conner.”
“I will, sir!” Kon calls out enthusiastically just as the lock finally clicks open.
Tim gingerly pulls the padlock off the cabinet door, displaying it to Kon. “There. Are you satisfied now?”
“No way, dude!” Kon exclaims. “We gotta at least try some of that before you put it back!”
“Try some of th – no!” Tim splutters. “You just told Alfred we weren’t going to drink any of it!”
“We’re not going to find anything else to do around here, Tim!” Kon points out. “It’s do this or go hang out down in the Cave, and I am not letting you go back there tonight! Now c’mon, let’s see how this stuff actually tastes.”
Tim hesitates for a moment, eyes darting back and forth between the resolute Kon and the unlocked cabinet, then grabs the bottle and two shot glasses.“Alright. But we’re only taking a few sips.”
The bottle is half-empty, resting between two shot glasses that have a few dregs of vodka left in both of them. Kon is feeling dizzy and a little nauseous, and is starting to think that this may not have been the best idea. He’s tried to put away the bottle three times now with limited success, especially considering that his legs keep flying when he tells them to walk. Tim is sprawled out on one of the couches, rambling to himself as he plays with the lockpicks still in his hand.
“-and, and I just don’t know how any of you do it, you know, acting like it’s so easy to balance hero business an’, an’, a normal life. All of you – th’ Titans, th’ Bats, Supers, everyone – just switches back an’ forth between civilian and hero like, like, like you’re putting on a new suit of clothes. It’s easy. It’s so easy. How d’you do it? I need to know! I have to work at this, Kon, I have to work at balancing my life! I have to m-m-make two sets of everything: time, personality, priorities an’, an’ all that – all that’s gotta change when I switch from Red Robin to Tim Drake or, or, the other way around. You get me?”
“Sure,” Kon mumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet as he stumbles back to the couch and sits down.
His sudden movement attracts Tim’s attention. “Kon. Kon. You don’t look so good.”
“I don’t feel so good,” Kon replies, his stomach bubbling unpleasantly. “I am not getting back up again.”
Tim rolls over, burying his face in his pillow. “Damn it,” he exclaims, his voice muffled by the fabric. “Now Alfred’s going to find us here with the bottle and know what we did and he’ll tell Batman and we’ll both be in so much trouble! I told you this was a bad idea!”
“I will handle it.”
The soft voice comes out of nowhere, making both boys sit up and look around.
“Batgirl?” asks Kon.
“Cass?” says Tim.
A shadow moves from behind the desk, corking the bottle and depositing it back in the cabinet before Tim can even fully realize that there’s someone else in the room. Cass is dressed in her costume but is missing her mask, her cape swishing around behind her as she continues cleaning up.
“Should be more careful,” she murmurs, pulling a key from a pouch and re-locking the cabinet door. “Might have been messy.”
“Alfred told you to watch us, didn’t he?” Tim groans, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Figures. Should’ve known he wouldn’t trust us.”
“Not you,” Cass says. “Valuables. Most can’t be replaced. Someone has to watch.”
Kon snorts out loud at the unintentional innuendo, then looks horrified, his hand flying to his mouth. “Sorry, Batgirl.”
“Black Bat, now.” Cass corrects him lightly. “And…thank you.”
She stares at him for a bit longer than necessary, the silence stretching on between them.
“And that’s another thing!” Tim cries out, bolting upright in his seat and startling the both of them. “All this…this tension between all of us! What is it, really? What’s the point?”
“Tim.” Cass sounds uncertain, an unusual thing for her. Tim ignores her and plows on.
“We all have feelings! We all have desires, emotions, lusts, and, and all that! We all look at some guy, or some girl, or, or some alien and think ‘Hey, they sure seem nice! Why don’t I go on a date with them?’ And then there’s a crisis or something or someone’s keeping too many secrets and everything just goes to crap! And so we swear off relationships for good, completely ignoring that we’re just going to do it again anyway! And then the tension just builds and builds and builds and there are so many unrequited feelings on different sides and I just can’t take it anymore!”
“Whoa, Tim, you really need to calm down,” says Kon, holding out his hands protectively. “C’mon, take a breath and-”
Tim springs to his feet, wobbling slightly in place. “No! NO! I do not need to calm down! You guys need to get angry! This is ridiculous! I mean, how, how, how long have you two had this mutual crush thing going on, huh? Two years? Three?”
Kon blushes. “Tim, no offense, but that’s not really any of your-”
“I’ve noticed! The Titans have noticed! We’ve all noticed! You can’t be in the same room together without…tension! It’s what I keep saying!” Tim rants, his arms flailing wildly. “Why do we do this to ourselves, huh? Why can’t we just put aside all our concerns and doubts and, and just go for it? Isn’t that what normal people are s’posed to do when they like someone?”
Kon and Cass exchange looks. Neither seems sure how to react to this.
“It’s a flawed system, is what it is! We deserve better! We should just say what we feel and do what we like, and damn the consequences! We’ve got that power!” Tim suddenly stops in mid-gesture. “That’s it. That’s it. I know what I need to do. Kon, fly me to Steph’s place! I need to tell her that I love her!”
“What?!?” Kon nearly yells, shaking off his dizziness as he gets to his feet. “No way, man! That’s crazy!”
“I have to do this,” Tim says stubbornly, remarkably clear-headed for someone with several pints of vodka in him. “I have to. I’m lying to myself and I’m lying to her. She deserves the truth.”
Kon glances over at Cass, panic in his eyes. “Help,” he whispers.
Cass studies Tim for a moment, then shrugs. “Do it. Help Tim.”
“Cassandra!” Kon hisses in shock. “This is not a good idea!”
“Tim won’t give up until you go,” she points out. “Easier this way. Might be good for him, too. Besides, won’t break Alfred’s china this way.”
Kon sighs. “If this goes bad, I am totally blaming it on you.”
“She’s coming too!” Tim barks out. “All of us have to be there. All of us. Alllll four of us. It’s how it has to be.”
Kon looks about two seconds away from throttling Tim where he stands, but somehow restrains himself. “Fine,” he manages. “Come on, you two. All aboard Kon Air.”
The trip over to Steph’s house is eventful, not in the least because Kon has to balance holding two people and flying at the same time. Tim makes the mistake of looking down early on and nearly throws up twice, but some soothing words from Cass and awkward encouragement from Kon allow him to keep his dinner down. Despite Tim’s repeated assertions that he’s fine, really, it was just a little bit of airsickness, Kon insists on holding Tim a few inches away from him for the rest of the flight.
Steph’s house is a small, modest little place just a few miles from Wayne Manor. Kon drifts up to Stephanie’s window as quietly as he can, doing his best to deposit Tim and Cass on the roof without making any noise. At Tim’s nod, he knocks on the window.
On the fifth knock, Steph yanks open the window from the inside, looking scandalized. “Tim? Cass?! Superboy? What are you guys doing here? People might see you!”
Tim awkwardly swings over and lands in front of the window. “Stephanie, I came here to tell you something very important. You need to hear this. I love you. I still love you. I always have, and, and I always will.”
Steph stares at him like she’s not sure whether to laugh or scream. “He’s drunk!” she says to Kon accusingly. “You got him drunk!”
“I was bored, sue me!” Kon replies, throwing up his hands. Cass is quietly laughing to herself, her twitching shoulders the only thing that betrays her composure.
“The important thing is that you know I love you,” Tim presses on.
“Oh, for-” Steph frantically waves all of them inside. “Just get inside already! In, in, in! We can’t do this out here!”
The three vigilantes oblige, Tim stumbling his way over the windowsill with Kon right behind him and Cass slinking inside last. The four of them stand awkwardly in the middle of Steph’s less-than-spacious bedroom, Kon examining the ceiling while Steph hurriedly cleans up for her unexpected guests.
Cass leans back against the wall, watching the proceedings with amusement. Tim is staring straight at Steph as she shelves books and straightens her sheets, his expression never changing.
Steph finally flings one last book aside and sits down on the bed, glaring at the three of them. “Alright, Tim. What is this about?”
“I miss you,” Tim slurs, taking a step towards her and almost tripping over a pile of books. “I still feel the same way about you I did y’know, y’know, before, and I think you haven’t let go of me, either. And it’s not just you, either, ‘cause I’m attracted to Cass and Kon at the same time and it’s really weirding me out.”
“WHAT?” Kon exclaims, eyes popping out of his head.
Cass inhales sharply, cocking her head at Tim.
Tim continues like he hasn’t noticed either of them. “I like Cass and I’m not sure why because she scares me as much as she excites me and, and I can’t say or do anything ‘cause I can’t read her like she reads me and I dunno what she’ll say. I push Kon away and act like he’s annoying so I don’t have to deal w-with how attttractive I find him and w-what that says about me. I don’t know what to say or think and it’s driving me insane, Steph.”
“So…” Steph’s eyebrows scrunch together. “You’re saying you’re in love…with all of us?”
“No, no, it’s more than that!” Tim interjects. “You and Cass stare at each other all the time, an’ Kon and Cass have this m-mild flirtation thing going on, an’ you and Kon…uh…” He falters for a moment. “Well, you two haven’t really spent much time together at all, but the potential is there for tension! Definite potential!”
“Uh…thanks,” Kon says awkwardly, his eyes flickering between Steph and Tim.
“I like all three of you and you all like each other and I can’t make any sense of this, y’know?” Tim whines. “It’s too big and complicated for me to deal with anymore, so you know what? You know what? Screw it. We’re having this out. Right here, right now. We are going to have sex and we are going to like it.”
Tim starts shedding clothes, his shirt falling into a messy pile of Steph’s bedsheets as he starts fiddling with his pants.
Kon stares at Tim with an unreadable expression, then shrugs in defeat. “Alright. I’m in.”
“Superboy!” Steph cries out. “Don’t encourage him!”
“Hey, he may be drunk off his ass, but Tim’s still Tim,” Kon replies, his voice muffled as he whips off his shirt. “You have to admit, he’s got a point. We’re all kind of weird around each other, and it does get in the way sometimes. Who knows, this might even work out in the long run. I’m game if you two are.”
“I have noticed this too,” Cass says quietly, deliberately placing her hand on the nape of Steph’s neck. “I think we all have.”
Steph shivers at the feeling of Cass’ hand on her skin, and lets out a huff. “Alright. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Cass smiled, leaning in to kiss her as Kon tackles Tim to the ground. It takes the group five minutes to fully remove everyone’s clothes, and ten minutes to get everyone on the bed.
No one is complaining.
“I said all that?” Tim mutters to himself. “I did all that?”
“That and more, Timbo,” Steph says breezily. “I don’t even know the names of some of the stuff you pulled. Can’t say I’m surprised, though.”
“Was interesting,” Cass adds. “Better than expected. Much, much better.”
“You wore me out, Tim! Me!” Kon pipes up. “Are you sure you’re not part meta?”
Tim opens his mouth to object, deny, accuse, defend, or any other number of things…and stops. Despite himself, he can appreciate what they’re trying to do right now. All these funny little remarks they’ve been making since the moment he woke up, turning what happened last night into more of a joke than an event – it’s all for his benefit, allowing him to make light of what happened and dismiss it as unimportant. They’re offering him a way out, a chance for him to keep things uncomplicated and routine, and he’s simultaneously touched and saddened that they felt they needed to do this.
But at the same time, though, this whole thing really doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. He feels relaxed, happy, and at peace for having finally told them how he felt. The sex with them was probably amazing, too, what with his pleasant memories of jumbled limbs and laughing, low voices. He needed this, Tim realizes with a start. He’s needed this so unbelievably badly, and he hasn’t realized this until right now.
Steph, Cass, and Kon have all fallen silent, watching him with wary and hopeful eyes. With a titanic force of will, Tim forces his thoughts off to one side. There will be time for introspection and analysis later; right now his friends deserve a response from him.
Tim wets his lips. “You know,” he says carefully, “I think we all had a pretty good time last night. If it’s alright with all of you…we could make this a weekly thing. You know, so we can relax and work off stress together. How does that sound?”
Steph smiles from ear to ear, Cass looks at him with warm approval, and Kon grins like a shark.
“Sounds great,” says Steph, her voice cracking.
“I agree,” says Cass.
“You even have to ask?” Kon exclaims, lying back down and smiling at the ceiling. “Man, Bart’s gonna be so jealous…”
Tim looks from Steph to Cass to Kon and smiles. He may not be able to say what he’s thinking just yet. He may not be able to define whatever-this-is in words or feelings or any other kind of label. He’s not even sure if he knows who he is anymore. But right now, he doesn’t care.
Maybe, just maybe, he can live with this.