Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a calm afternoon like any other. The Wayne manor was quiet, most of its occupants out, a few asleep for a pre-patrol nap. And inside a somewhat messy room, the lone exception, Tim Drake, typed away furiously.

Tim took a sip from his now lukewarm can of Zesti, making a grimace at the temperature all the while he continued to type with a single hand. Hacking into Bruce’s personal systems was always an interesting challenge and exercise. Bruce wasn’t the best coder of the family, but he was paranoid like no other, so he tended to really have all possible entrances covered.

It would deter most intruders, but Tim was obstinate and on a mission.

Bruce had been acting weird. More secretive than usual.

And that was never a good thing. 

First it had been evacuating the Manor for several days with no explanation, which was strange but could be explained away as a regular bout of Bruce-ism. There was hope he had been doing sometime like messing with the security systems rather than hiding a major threat from the family.

But the moment Tim realised Bruce was keeping everyone out of it? Out of something so big that it included asking them all to leave the manor for several days, during which they also had to pick up any slack in the patrolling department, since Bruce himself would be absent - that had been quite the red flag. Saying it would happen again, with no further explanation, and recruiting all the Reds - as was known the collective made up of Barbara, Wally, Kori and Roy - to help? Well, that was a cry for attention, in Tim’s opinion. Bruce had been practically begging Tim to get up in his business. 

The moment he finally managed to break into Bruce’s private files, Tim did a little dance. It was perhaps slightly ridiculous. Not like anyone was looking anyway. He had disabled the security in his room before he started working on his current task. It wouldn’t do to leave traces behind, even if Bruce would probably be aware of what Tim was doing at some point. Suspicion wasn’t proof.

Case files, even Bruce’s private ones with his real thoughts, didn’t yield anything that would explain Bruce’s behavior, so branching out would be needed. Tim scrolled through Bruce’s most recently edited files, sharp eyes reading over file formats and directories looking for anything that looked promising. Luckily Bruce was too pernickety to mess with the organization of his files in favour of subterfuge.

Hmm, there were a lot of blueprints in Bruce’s recent files…

Tim double clicked a few, and as soon as his eyes could make sense of what he was seeing, his whole face went red. The files had only been named in numbers, but there were clear headers for all the… devices Bruce had designed.

Devices of a very intimate and personal nature.

In a hurry, Tim proceeded to close most files, until he noticed one that very much didn't look like the material of Tim's next therapy session. Or at least that was what Tim thought when he saw blueprints for a room rather than some seriously scary looking dildos.

Then again, it was titled “Kryptonian adapted heat-room” Tim noticed, so his initial assessment was probably out the window.

There were helpfully labelled red sun lamps. God, why did they need red sun lamps??? Tim asked himself. What were Bruce and Clark getting up to in the ‘Cave while everyone was gone? Did he even want to know?

Despite his embarrassment, Tim couldn't help but to frown. Since when did Kryptonians need heat rooms? Was that heat as in, like, heat-heat? Like animals went into heat? Surely Kon would have told him if that was a thing. Or, well. If Kon had known that was a thing.

Was Clark hiding the fact that he was getting heats from Kon? ‘Cause that wasn't crash. Kon was kept in the dark too often regarding his own biology, what with not being neither quite human nor quite kryptonian.

With a new vengeance, Tim opened up a search for the keyword HEAT, which brought up quite a few files created and altered over the last few weeks. Ever since Bruce had kicked them all out via message, to be precise.

He pulled up what seemed to be one of Bruce’s private journals from that day and skimmed over until he had confirmation of his budding theory.

(He could do without any details about Superman going into heat of all things - despite what others might say sometimes, Tim wasn’t a creeper. He didn’t exactly feel great going through Clark’s personal info. He just needed to confirm things so he could tell Kon so the super clone could make the decision to confront Clark about it.) 

Apparently Bruce had been summoned to the Fortress, the kryptonian ship that housed most of Earth’s information about Clark’s long lost planet and culture, to help Clark, who was insensate with a fever. Tim read enough to know something had apparently set off the kryptonian’s mating instinct and caused an estrous that lasted for several days and that would be happening periodically.

Which meant Superman, the man of steel, apparently could get pregnant. Cool.

…could Kon get pregnant? Was that a thing Kon should be worrying about? Because now Tim was worrying about it.

Yeah, Tim definitely needed to talk to Kon.

When Bruce’s journal started to get personal, Tim closed it up in a hurry. Too much information, nope, nope.

The truth was all the kids knew about Bruce’s hopeless crush on Superman. Hopeless because the man refused to act on it, despite every evidence that Clark had it just as bad for him.

It was possible there were a few bets going on, on the destiny and future of that relationship. Mayhaps even one or two that Tim himself had started. 

But that didn’t mean Tim wanted to read Bruce’s innermost private thoughts on the subject. No sir.

 He scrolled a bit more through the list of recently modified files, and noticed a block of files, all with the same extension, which Tim had never seen before. The file names all looked like gibberish to him.

He opened one, curious.

Immediately, the gibberish names made sense. They were transliterated from Kryptonian - or at least that was a safe assumption, as the whole file was in the alien script. Tim had some passing knowledge of the language, but certainly not enough to decode what appeared to be a medical text. He would get his computer on translating them, but it would take a while before it was done. Technical kryptonian was notoriously difficult to translate.

Well, he would be getting those to Kon when he was done translating them. But before that, he needed to have a conversation with him.

The truth of the matter was, the conversation with Kon was always going to be awkward. 

Like, how could telling your crush they could go into heat at any moment be not awkward. So there was that.

Tim had invited Kon over with the specific objective of telling him what he had found out. He’d tried to ease the way with videogames and Kon’s favourite snacks before he introduced the topic of kryptonian reproduction. He even let Kon win at Mario Kart a couple of times. Everything had seemed like it was going well… at first.

When the podium appeared on the screen declaring Kon the winner, Tim dropped his controller on the couch cushion and turned to look at Kon.

“I need to tell you something,” Tim rushed to say before Kon started a new match. Kon frowned at him, but also let go of his controller. 

“Were you letting me win because you have something horrible to tell me?” he asked, squinting at Tim in suspicion. 

Busted. But suspicion was not proof!

“What, of course not! I wouldn’t do that,” he lied, like a liar. “But I do have something to tell you. But it isn’t horrible, I don’t think. Depends on how you look at it, I guess.”

Kon wasn’t looking any more relaxed than before. Quite on the contrary. Tim sighed and decided to just do it, head on. Like ripping a band-aid.

“You know how B wanted us all out of the manor a few weeks ago?” Kon nodded. “Well, apparently it is because Clark is, uh. Going into heat and needed a place to stay.”

“Heat?” Kon asked, his voice breaking and going several octaves higher at the end of the word. “Like a cow?”

“Apparently,” Tim said with a grimace, watching Kon closely. He looked shocked, surely but also… crestfallen. Tim hadn’t expected that. Maybe for him to be angry. Probably embarrassed. But not sad. Though perhaps he should have.

“I thought he was done with this sort of bs,” Kon explained, when Tim prodded him. “Keeping secrets about important stuff, you know? Keeping me out of things.”

“I’m sure that’s not it,” Tim tried, though to be fair, he wasn’t sure. Clark meant well, but his track record with Kon wasn’t the best. Tim knew he could be more charitable towards Clark in relation to how he had taken his time to connect with Kon. Finding out someone had stolen your DNA and made a clone to replace you was certainly a shock.

But Tim was quite proud to admit he was biased. Kon was his best friend, and Clark had hurt Kon’s feelings, so as far as Tim was concerned, Clark was on thin ice.

Kon didn’t look all that consoled by Tim’s words, so TIm moved to hug his best friend. Touch wasn’t a natural language to Tim but he knew how much it mattered to Kon.

“Thanks for telling me,” Kon murmured into Tim’s hair and it took all of Tim’s training not to shiver.

“No worries,” Tim mumbled back, letting go of his friend after a beat and stepping back. “You deserve to know. Even if it felt sort of wrong going through that info. I guess I get why B didn’t tell us what was going on.” Tim truly hadn’t wanted to know some of the things he caught glimpses of in Bruce’s things. 

(Having a crush on a clone came with a few simple rules - which became slightly less simple when your father figure had a crush on the DNA donor. In a few words, Tim Did Not think of Clark in sexual terms. That way lay madness.)

“Sorry you had to see those things,” Kon said, rubbing his arm, looking embarrassed. It was so unnatural to see Kon looking embarrassed, it rubbed Tim the wrong way. “I guess it is kinda gross, right? Alien sex stuff.”

“Well, because it’s Clark,” Tim replied sincerely, his nose scrunching up in distaste. Truth be told, none of the things he had read had sounded bad when he thought about Kon in that situation. 

(Yes, his brain had gone there. It wasn’t his fault. His brain had a brain of its own.)

Not that he would be saying that with his outside voice anytime soon.

Kon seemed pleased by his response, at least, and that was what mattered. 

“You gonna talk to him?” Tim asked, voice soft. Clark was a sore spot, and an influence that sometimes made Kon’s actions harder to predict.

“Yeah, I guess I have to. Did you find anything else I should know?”

Tim blushed in response.

“I found some files in kryptonian but those will take a while to decode. I just know that it apparently happens once a month? Sorry, stuff started to get kind of, uh. Graphic. So I stopped reading.”

Kon made a mildly disgusted face.

“Ew. Yeah, fair. Thanks anyway dude.”

“Any time, clone boy. Any time.” They were quiet for a moment, Kon clearly lost in thought, before he broke out in a smile. 

“You said it happens once a month, right? And lasts a few days, if we go by the last time?”

“Yeah?”

“So it should be coming up, right? Wanna come stay at the farm? They’ll hardly need you there with all the extra help.” It was Tim’s turn to perk up. He loved the Kent farm. 

The lack of Wi-Fi in the farm used to mean Tim felt like climbing the walls after a few hours, worried the world could be ending and him not knowing, but Kon had begged and pleaded until Ma saw it his way and gotten broadband. Not that it was great or particularly fast, but it was enough to keep him updated and so he could relax when he visited. Take in nature and the animals.

Watch Kon cutting wood with his shirt off. Carrying bales of hay with his shirt off. Feeding chickens with his shirt off. 

(A lot of chores in the farm required Kon to take his shirt off, Tim had noticed. Not that he was complaining. Far be it from him. The farm had a pretty functional cold shower, and if Martha thought Tim had a bit of a cleanliness OCD, that was a small price to pay for the view.)

“Sure,” Tim accepted, with enthusiasm. He was due a vacation.

Chapter Text

Leaving Gotham behind for Kansas was always a special kind of shock for Tim. Most of the time he was used to travelling to cities that were at least, well, cities. Big enough to rival Gotham, or to at least allow Tim to feel in his element.

Smallville was not Tim’s element. 

And yet he loved it there. The clean air hinted with the smell of farm animals and hay, the way there was nature everywhere one cared to look, how many visible stars there were at night, and even the blinding sun he could deal with, when Kon looked so satisfied and alive under the golden rays.

Seeing Kon in his farm boy version was also always interesting. Not that Tim didn’t like Kon’s style - far from it - but there was something about seeing him in just flannel and jeans that did things to Tim.

(He had it down bad.)

There were chores and hard work to be done, but he didn’t mind, not when most of that time was spent with Kon - who tended to do all the truly heavy work anyway.

He arrived around mid morning at the farm - late, by farm standards, even if it was extremely early for any bat - which meant Kon had already gone through most of that day’s chores, but Tim hurried to make himself useful, helping with what was left. Only when it was time to collect the chicken eggs did Tim make his excuses and hurry off to help Martha in the kitchen.

Look, Tim was no craven. He was Red Robin for crying out loud. He dealt with high stress, high risk situations on the regular.

But there was absolutely something terrifying about the Kent chickens. They walked wild around the farm in what Tim could only call a gang formation, bullying everyone in their way. Something about them just radiated evil . And after what Kon told him they had done to the last rooster to get too big for its feathers - well. Let it be just said that his theory had been confirmed, as far as Tim was concerned.

Maybe it was the fact that their coop was deliberately built on top of where Jonathan and Martha had buried Clark’s ship. Maybe that was it, maybe generations of being low key irradiated by remnants of deep space radiation had changed them.

All Tim knew was he wasn’t getting close to those chickens anytime soon. Kon was invulnerable, he could deal. Even if he wasn’t, technically speaking, supposed to use his powers to do chores.

Martha was halfway through preparing lunch when Tim arrived at the kitchen, after kicking off his muddy work boots on the porch and washing himself thoroughly in the bathroom.

“Hello, Tim,” Martha said warmly when Tim entered the kitchen. “Kon’s getting the eggs?”

Perhaps his totally legit apprehension had been noticed by others. Tim refused to be ashamed.

“Yeah,” he said, only slightly pink. “What can I do to help?” 

Martha indicated a pile of unwashed, unpeeled vegetables and Tim got to work, already used to how Martha did things. They worked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sound the distant moos of cows and the old radio turned down so low Tim couldn’t make out much of the music, only white noise. It was peaceful.

“It is good you are here, Tim,” Martha said, after some time, when Tim was already in the middle of peeling and dicing carrots. “Not that I am not always happy to have you, mind my dear, but Kon hasn’t been himself lately.” She sighed deeply. “You wouldn’t happen to know why that is, would you?”

Tim worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he considered what he could say without revealing private information about both Clark’s and Kon’s sexuality to their maternal figure. It wasn’t a surprise that Clark hadn’t told his mother about his new developments with his gonads - the man was apparently struggling with the news, and explaining you went into heat to your mother did not sound like a fun conversation to have.

“I would,” he finally settled on. “You don’t have to worry, though. I think everything will be OK.”

“Thank you, Tim. That’s all I can ask for, really.” Tim was surprised she seemed to be satisfied with that. Though, then again, most people didn’t have the tenacity of a Bat when digging for information. Some people even had something called boundaries they tried not to cross.

Crazy stuff.

By the time Kon came in, done with the morning chores, most of lunch was done, only Martha’s ubiquitous pie still in the oven, and Tim and Martha were having a cup of coffee while Martha told Tim all about the most current Smallville gossip. Rivalries over the best produce and baked goods recipe could get outright brutal in the countryside.

“Now, how about you two go wash up before lunch?” Martha said. Tim couldn’t argue with her logic - he’d done his best in the wash basin but he was still sweaty . And Martha had a very strict rule about shirts staying on during lunch, which meant Kon, unfortunately, would have to get dressed properly.

(Tim was not staring at the shine of sweat on the clone’s chest, how dare anyone insinuate otherwise!)

By the time they were back - after a brief tussle to decide who got the shower first, which Kon won but then conceded the first shower to Tim - instead of having the table set, Martha had a large wicker basket out on top of the table.

“You did it already? Thanks Ma!” Kon said, moving in to hug her.

“No problem, darling,” Martha answered, kissing his cheek, which Kon had obligingly lowered so she could reach.

“Uhm,” Tim said, looking at Kon in confusion. 

“I thought we could have a picnic by the lake,” Kon explained, sunshine smile fully armed. A menace, that boy was.

“Sounds good,” Tim replied weakly with a smile of his own, pushing down the urge to blush. Gosh, why was Kon’s smile so contagious? And a picnic by the lake, with Kon? It sounded so… romantic. 

Tim mentally slapped himself. No thinking of romance.

“Lemme just,” Kon said, and then was gone with a whoosh, before returning with a parasol and yet another whoosh. “So your pale ass doesn’t get burned.”

Yeah, Tim was fully blushing now. Thankfully, he could pretend it was at Martha’s laughter (followed by a scolding for language, which left Kon red around the ears, so ha!).

Tim made a point of picking up the basket himself, letting Kom handle the parasol and a blanket they could use to sit on. 

It was checkered, even. Sometimes Tim wondered if Smallville was even real, or if it was part of an advanced simulation fed with everything one might associate with americana and the Midwest.

Tim didn’t blush when Kon picked him up in a bridal carry, but that was only experience and bat training. The first time Kon had picked him up, Tim had had to cover how flustered he was by pretending to be indignant. Since then, however, he had learned to deal better with being cradled in Kon’s arms.

Somewhat better, that is.

They flew above the clouds with Kon’s TTK around Tim to protect him from the wind and cold. It was a strange feeling, being encompassed in TTK like that, but not bad, almost like the pressure before one’s ears popped from altitude, but over his whole body and… kinda nice? It sent a warmth throughout the entirety of Tim’s body when he thought a little too long about it, though.

Kon settled them a little ways away from a man-made reservoir that passed for a lake in Smallville. It was a nice place, a lot of grass the sort of green you didn’t see in Gotham unless Ivy was involved. There were some pretty patches of flowers. Not a lot of tree cover, though, which explained the need for a parasol - the sun was high up enough in the sky that Tim would’ve turned into a lobster after 15 minutes of it. The place wasn’t deserted, but it wasn’t crowded either; there was plenty of room for them to set up, and no one seemed to be paying them any particular mind.

All in all, a very nice place for a picnic. Too nice. Tim’s knees had already almost turned to jelly when landed, but thanks to Kon’s TKK, had ended up holding steady. Now, watching Kon set up the blanket and parasol, the jelly feeling took over his entire body. The self-satisfied smile Kon shot him when he was done was even more brilliant than the sun.

Tim rolled his eyes fondly at the clone’s antics, feeling some of the shakiness be overtaken by simple fondness. Sure, he might have a massive crush on Kon, but Kon was also his dumbass best friend.

Tim sat down on the blanket, thankful for the shade as he had already started sweating from standing in the sun, and set about taking the absurd amount of food Martha had prepared out of the basket.

Or, well. As he watched Kon eat, he conceded maybe it was a necessary amount of food. He always forgot just how much food he could put away when he truly let himself eat.

Tim made himself a note to pay more attention to that in the future. It wouldn’t do to let Kon go hungry because a meal wasn’t prepared with his metabolism in mind. 

They talked while they ate - if CADMUS had tried to implant table manners with Kon’s clone education, it certainly hadn’t taken, from the way he spoke with his mouth full - discussing their plans for the next Young Justice weekend. Cassie wanted to do a horror movie marathon and had asked for suggestions. Eventually, the conversation petered out as they finished Ma’s apple pie.

“The parasol was a good idea,” Tim commented to break the silence. “I don’t know how you manage this heat.”

“Being part kryptonian certainly helps,” Kon replied with a cheeky smile. “We can take a swim if you want? Cool down some.”

Tim’s brain briefly short circuited upon the assault of images of a wet, shirtless Kon.

“I don’t have my trunks with me,” Tim replied while his brain rebooted, thankful that making excuses quickly was second nature to him.

“Don’t be such a city boy, we could skinny dip.”

“Conner! There’s people, ugh,” Tim said, covering his face with his hands to hide his embarrassment. “I’m too full to swim anyway. I’m gonna lay down.” It wasn’t even a lie - thankfully, so no chance of Kon hearing one - he had definitely gone overboard with that second slice of pie. He lay back on the checkered blanket with a groan.

“Here,” Kon said, patting his thighs. “Grade A half-kryptonian beef here, you can use me as a pillow.”

And how could Tim say no to an offer like that? More importantly, he didn’t want to say no, even if it was, truly, a terrible idea.

He scooted over and lay his head on Kon’s lap, which was horribly comfortable.

“Thanks,” Tim mumbled, closing his eyes briefly.

(He absolutely did not take a furtive deep breath to try and catch Kon’s lovely and peculiar personal scent. Much less did Tim melt further into Kon’s lap when said scent registered in his nose, something both alien and so comforting about it that Tim could never put into words.)

“No problem, dude.”

When he was slightly jostled by Kon’s body moving slightly, Tim opened his eyes in time to see Kon finish stretching, a lazy, content smile brightening his features.

Fuck, but Kon was attractive. Not for the first time, Tim irrationally wished Kon was just a tad less… everything. Anything. Less handsome. Less perfect. Less fun. His eyes less blue. Maybe even more annoying. Or stupid, it would be so much easier if he was stupid.

Anything!

Maybe then it would be easier to not have a massive crush on his best friend.

Alas , Tim thought as his eyes traced the contour of a jawline that would make lesser men weep.

“So, Rob-” Kon interrupted himself when he chanced a glance down and caught Tim staring.

Oh shit.

He should look away. Or something. Right? Tim felt his mouth open, but nothing came out. God, Kon’s eyes were just so blue .

The tension between them felt like a palpable thing, and Tim couldn’t bring himself to look away and break eye contact with Kon. His throat worked though his mouth was dry.

Then Kon suddenly jerked back - and when had he come so close - and the tension snapped like a strand of cotton candy.

He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair as he looked around, and Tim could notice a hint of color in his cheeks.

“Thanks for coming,” Kon finally said, lamely, not looking at Tim. 

Tim doesn’t say ‘any time’, because, as much as he would want it to be true, it was a rare occasion when he could leave Gotham and all his duties for such a long time. It had only worked because B was otherwise engaged with Clark and Tam had been pressuring him to get time off at WE. 

“Thanks for inviting me,” he settled on, feeling strangely bereft of the tension that had been going between them, now that Kon wasn’t looking at him anymore.

It was late at night, Kon and Tim lying side by side in Kon’s room, Tim on the bed and Kon on the mattress on the floor (because Kon was a gentleman and ‘impervious to physical discomfort’ was hard to argue, even if Tim has some suspicions about that, but the bed smelled like Kon so there were worst fates), a comfortable silence between them, when Kon decided to talk.

“I talked to Clark,” he murmured, almost too low for Tim to hear. He scooted over on the mattress so he was closer to Kon, though he couldn’t see more than the general shape of him in the dark. “ About the whole, y’know, heat thing.”

“Oh,” Tim said, eloquently, wishing fervently for the kind of super eyesight that would allow him to see Kon’s expression. “How did it go?”

“Okay I guess. I’m less mad at him, at least.”

“Yeah?”

“I think he’s been overwhelmed by the whole thing - he didn’t know it was a thing until it happened to him. Dunno. Guess I felt kind of bad for him. And he apologised, so.”

“Fair.” They were quiet for a moment, Tim wanting to give Kon space to talk, but he couldn’t help an itch of curiosity. “Did he explain anything?”

“Yeah,” Kon said, seeming to perk up if his voice was anything to go by. “Apparently Kryptonians had, like, three sexes? You start off a beta - that’s what I am right now - and then you present as either an alpha or an omega. Omegas are the ones who get heats and carry babies.” There Kon bit his lip. “Clark said that just because he’s an omega doesn’t mean I’ll be one too. If I even present at all, apparently it is pretty rare.”

“Huh,” Tim said, brain going a mile a minute. “Wonder if that’s why kryptonians moved on to using genesis chambers.” The dark shape that was Kon moved in a way Tim decided to interpret as shrugging.

“Pro’bly,” Kon said, halfway through a yawn. “Clark said he’s taking me to the ship to talk to Jor-El, I could ask.” At that, Tim’s brows rose to meet his hairline.

Clark had never invited Kon over to the Fortress, a fact that Tim knew was a cause of hurt for Kon. It was a big deal .

“And how are you feeling about all that?” Tim couldn’t help but to ask. He cursed himself for not spontaneously developing meta powers of super sight. He really wanted to see the expression on Kon’s face.

“I dunno, man. I thought being a sped-grown clone at least meant I got to skip puberty, but apparently not.” Aaaand there it was, Kon’s patented use of humour to distract from his feelings. Tim frowned.

“Seriously, Kon. It’s a lot to take in.” The Kon-shape did the shrugging motion again.

“I guess I am still taking it in? And there’s a chance it doesn’t even apply to me, being half-human and all. Maybe the other shoe will drop when I talk to Jor-El.” Kon audibly yawned again and Tim decided to ease off on the questioning despite still having plenty of questions. “Actually, I wanted to ask you for some help.”

“Sure,” Tim replied, like a reflex. Then he stopped to think for a moment. “Unless it is the kind of illegal that is unethical, I guess. What do you need?” Kon chuckled fondly at Tim.

“Nothing like that, you psycho. Just, there’s things I want to ask Jor-El? But I’m sure there’s a bunch of things I don’t know to ask. So I thought we could, like, make a list. Together. Because you have good ideas.”

Tim was very glad for the darkness covering up his blush at Kon’s words.

(Forgetting, for a moment, that Kon did have super vision that allowed him to see in the dark.)

“Yeah, I can help,” Tim said, softly. “We could also look through the kryptonian files I lifted from Bruce - they haven’t finished translating completely, but it should be enough for us to get some ideas.” Tim stopped and considered. “Actually, when you talk to Jor-El, could you get some resources for learning Kryptonian? Or some sort of rosetta stone? I feel it could come in handy in the future.”

“You want to learn kryptonian.” 

“...yeah?” Tim bit his lip. “Is that okay?”

“More than,” Kon replied, and Tim could hear the smile in his voice. He couldn’t help but smile back. “You’re a cool dude, Rob.”

Chapter Text

It was a few weeks before the kryptonian texts Tim had lifted from Bruce’s personal files were satisfactorily translated by his computer - a lot longer than it would have taken had he been able to access the Batcomputer’s computational power, but as it was, he was still trying to fly under Bruce’s radar. It wasn’t a perfect translation, not by a long shot, and Tim’d have to brush up on his biomedic knowledge to understand a good deal of what had been translated but he had been able to learn a lot from it. 

Or at least that had been what Tim had told Kon when he messaged him to schedule a day to do that question list. Kon had jumped on the chance and they’d agreed to do it the next weekend, when they’d be meeting with the Young Justice crowd.

Kon had absolutely not expected Tim to arrive armed with a meticulously designed presentation on everything he had found. 

Maybe he should have. He knew Tim, and that man had a thing for the Office package. Like, Kon had seen Tim talk dirty to spreadsheets in the past. It had been one of the most confusingly erotic things he had seen in his short life. And he’d seen so many tentacle monsters during his tenure as Superboy.

They’d set up in Kon’s room; Tim had brought a goshdarn projector along with him and Kon’s room had a perfect empty wall for that.

(Also maybe he liked having Tim in his room. Which was okay if he wasn’t creepy about it, Kon reminded himself.)

Tim had just started explaining the files he’d found were made up of two kinds - medical manuals and Jor-El’s research notes - when they were interrupted. A quick - speedster quick - rap of knocks on the door rang out a few seconds before the room’s door busted open inside, heralding a Bart that was already speaking a mile a minute, though he stopped talking when he saw what was happening inside the room.

Bart looked from Kon to Tim, and then pointedly at the slide projected on the wall which read ‘ Kryptonian Reproduction: A Primer by Timothy Drake ’. He then raised his eyebrows at the room at large.

“Soooo. What you doing?”

“This… isn’t what it looks like? Probably?” Tim tried.

“So you aren’t giving Kon The Talk?”

Tim looked at Kon. Kon looked back at Tim. They both shrugged at each other.

“It’s not… not that,” Tim finally said, after a moment.

“Cool,” Bart said, sounding genuine.

And then it hit Kon. Sure, Tim was his best friend. Number one spot. But Bart was also absolutely on the podium. And he came from the future - he had shown more than once that his understanding of gender and sexuality was different from the average person’s, with very little hangups, though maybe that was just Bart being Bart. He was certainly a chill guy like that. Who knew, maybe they even knew about the whole alpha and omega thing in the future. Either way, he would welcome Bart’s presence even if only for moral support. He felt like he might need it by the time the afternoon was done.

“Actually, do you wanna help?” Kon asked. “Long story short, Kryptonian reproduction is weird as fuck and I asked Tim to help me make sense of it. He was going to explain what he found about it snooping in the big Bat’s things.”

“Hey,” Tim protested weakly, but both Kon and Bart ignored him.

“Sure, why not,” Bart asked with a shrug, sitting next to Kon on the floor, facing the projected screen. Tim rolled his eyes and turned back to the presentation, but when he made to speak he stopped himself, looking like he just had a thought.

“Actually, should we also get Cassie?” Tim asked because, well, they were the core of Young Justice. It did feel weird not having her there. And Cassie was probably gonna be less fazed by everything Tim had to tell than Bart. Amazons had a pretty fluid concept of gender, Kon had learned over his time being her friend, and Cassie had been the one to coach Kon through his gay panic when he realised he was into Tim. 

“Yeah, lemme text her,” Kon mumbled, doing just that and sending Cassie a quick ‘emergency meeting in my room’ .

Soon enough they were all gathered, Kon, Cassie and Bart sitting on the floor with a bucket of popcorn and a couple of bags of gummies (courtesy of Cassie, who hadn’t even asked what they were doing, just showed up to Kon’s room loaded with snacks a couple of minutes after receiving his message) while Tim remained standing, in full team-leader-giving-a-lecture mode.

(Tim even had a little pointer. Freaking adorable.) 

“So. Kryptonian reproduction,” Tim began, pointing at the opening slide. “This is a basic primer I put together from some Kryptonian files that included both medical texts, but also the impressions of Jor of the House of El, from the Science Guild.” Tim pointed at Bart when he raised his hand, rocking back and forth while he waited to be called on.

“And that is?”

“Superman’s bio dad.”

“Ooooh,” Bart said, nodding in understanding. Kon tried not to think too hard about what Jor-El would be in relation to him beyond an ancestor of some kind. He absolutely did not think of the word ‘grandfather’ at any point, no siree.  

“Any other questions?” The three shook their heads nearly in sync, and Tim nodded, before continuing. “Jor-El talks a lot about how sex and gender worked in Kryptonian culture - their whole gender expression was tied around your job and place in society, and could change several times during your life - so I am going to try to brush on that too.” Tim clicked his pointer, and moved to the next slide, titled ‘ The tridynamic model of sex expression ’. Under the title there was the word ‘Beta’, which connected through arrows to the words “Alpha’ and “Omegas’. There were also anatomical diagrams that Kon didn’t quite get at first, and then blushed hard when he finally understood what they were depicting.

“Now, Kryptonians had two major primary sex expressions, those with internal gonads and those with external gonads. We can track them in the human female/male spectrum for ease of reference. A critical difference, however, is that Kryptonians are a hermaphroditic species, meaning they produce both a static big gamete and a small, mobile gamete, regardless of primary sex.”

Kon stared blankly at Tim and, when he looked around, noticed he wasn’t the only one. Bart had his head tilted to the side while Cassie was squinting in confusion. Tim sighed.

“Both male and female Kryptonians could, potentially, get pregnant and impregnate other Kryptonians. Though not themselves, I don’t think.”

“ Noice ,” Cassie whistled and put up her hand for a high five, which Kon dazedly reciprocated - and then Kon felt a block of apprehension which had been sitting in his stomach start to melt away.

“This is how it worked,” Tim continued, ignoring Cassie. “You are born a beta - somewhere in the male/female binary. But Betas had pretty low fertility - they could reproduce, but it wasn’t very common. As far as I could understand, most Betas that stayed Betas were what we would call asexual.”

“What do you mean, ‘stayed betas’?”

“Here’s where things get interesting. Betas could do something called ‘present’. Which means developing into an omega or an alpha.” Before Bart could finish raising his hand, Tim trudged on. “An omega would have their internal sex organs mature, while an alpha would have their external sex organs mature. Omegas carried children, and Alphas sired them. So, in theory , any Kryptonian pair could be a breeding couple.” The stress on the word ‘theory’ didn’t pass by Kon.

“Why only in theory?” Kon asked, confused.

“From what Jor-El wrote, Kryptonians basically stopped presenting at a point in their history. He speculated it had to do with, uhm.” Tim hesitated, looking at Kon with an unreadable expression.

“Go on.”

“Apparently Kryptonians were, uh. Pretty big on eugenics.” Tim said, with a wince. Kon understood now why he had hesitated - genetic modification was a sensitive topic when one was an experimental semi-clone hybrid created for nefarious purposes. “Presentation rates were pretty low - even at their historical height, only about 20% of the population would present and have offspring. So when Krypton entered an expansionist, space faring age, they started to mess with genetic engineering and technologically assisted reproduction.” Tim forwarded his presentation a few slides until he landed on one with a picture of a humanoid skull. “They created the Codex, a registry of the full kryptonian genome, and the genesis chambers, both of which were used to create new Kryptonians. But Jor-El thinks they did something wrong, because these new Kryptonians stopped presenting - and so natural birth eventually stopped completely in Krypton. And by the time of Krypton’s demise, all new Kryptonians were designed to order according to the job and social role they would have.” 

Tim’s words rang out in the silence that followed. Kon was stunned, his mind running a mile a minute, a bunch of disconnected thoughts clashing and screaming for attention. He had known that the genesis chambers had existed as Kryptonian technology, known their discovery by Luthor had been the inspiration for Project CADMUS and of Kon’s own creation, but he had no idea of the extent of it all.

But beyond that, there was one winning out the forefront of his thoughts. 

“How did Kal present then?” Kon asked.

“Oooh, he did? As what?” Cassie asked, clearly curious before noticing Kon’s tumulted expression.

“He’s an omega,” Kon explained somewhat curtly, scratching the back of his neck with nerves. Surely that was fine to tell people - or, well, not people, but his closest friends at least? Clark had never said Kon couldn’t, just asked that he keep some details from Tim specifically. Like the fact that Clark’s presentation into an omega had been set off by being in love.

…which, Kon realised with an internal wince, was information Tim could conceivably have found in the kryptonian files. Or, well, maybe not details like that Clark’s crush was a ‘dominating older man’, as he had put it. But Kon was pretty sure Clark had meant for him to keep the whole deal that presentation was elicited by finding a compatible mate a secret. 

Whoops?

“He was born of natural reproduction,” Tim explained, keeping his voice technical but not unkind. “First one in centuries, from what Jor El wrote. His parents were Betas.”

Great , Kon thought, discouraged. He’d just started to think being a clone wasn’t that strange by Kryptonian standards, but obviously Clark had to be different, unique. When wasn’t Clark the shining exception? And he could hear the implication of being a genetically modified individual loud and clear.

“Not very likely that it will happen to me, then,” Kon said, feeling oddly bereft. Surely he should be relieved by not having to worry about that whole mess? It certainly seemed to be wearing on Clark, from what he had seen of him since.

But the truth was, somehow deep down, Kon had found himself thinking of the whole thing as awfully… romantic.

Not that he was about to voice that thought to anyone. But the idea that he would change and become fertile because his very biology recognised someone as his perfect mate?

(And that someone being Tim ?)

It just sounded kinda nice, that was all. Kind of like soulmates. Destined to each other.

“You don’t know that,” Cassie said, in an obvious effort to cheer him up. And great, now they all knew Kon was sad at the idea of - checking notes - not going into heat. Kon tried to shoot her a smile, but probably missed ‘winning’ by a mile.

“Kal said we could go to the kryptonian ship in the attic and check if I even can, I guess I’ll figure it out then,” Kon forced himself to respond as nonchalantly as he could.

“He’s finally taking you? Crash,” Bart said with such enthusiasm that it got a true smile out of Kon.

“Yeah, or at least he said he would. TBC.” 

“Do you wanna stop for now?” Tim then asked him, looking concerned, and didn’t that do things to Kon’s already shaken insides. “We can continue at another time.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he said with a carelessness he didn’t quite feel. “Let's get the surprises over with.”

“I don’t think there’s a lot of them left,” Tim said, considering. Then he winced. “I guess it depends on how you feel about the things that happen to kryptonian physiology during a cycle.”

“Cycle? Like a period?” Cassie asked. And Kon liked to think himself a deconstructed guy, but he couldn’t help but cringe a little at the comparison. Tim shot him a questioning look. Kon sighed and nodded, signing for him to go ahead.

“Like heat or a rut,” Tim explained delicately. “During that time Kryptonians were more likely to conceive, and their bodies adjusted, uh, accordingly.”

In his friend’s defense, neither of them laughed.

But from either side of him, Bart and Cassie turned to look at Kon, who hid his blushing face into his hands, curling forward into a fetal position.

He could feel the dislodgement of air to his left that meant Bart had raised his hand once more. He didn’t dare uncover his face. He was going to live in his knees now. No eye contact with anyone else ever again.

“Yeah, I have a very important question. Exactly how massive did an alpha’s dick get during a rut?” At that, a loud snigger did escape Cassie.

Kon’s eyes snapped open and over to Bart in betrayal.

(Kon did not notice just how red Tim had gone at the question.)

“What? You were wondering too,” Bart said, completely devoid of shame.

“Tim?” Kon called, still looking straight at Bart. Tim cleared his throat.

“Yes, Kon?”

“I changed my mind, I can read this part of the presentation later,” Kon said, with confidence.

This time, Cassie erupted in full out laughter behind him.

Kon changed his mind. His friends were traitors, the lot of them.

(...maybe not Tim. Tim could stay.)

Chapter Text

Later that night, back at the farm, Kon had let himself into the barn to pet the cows, which always helped his emotions settle when he was feeling overwhelmed. He had originally planned on staying the weekend at the Tower but he found he needed some time to himself after the deluge of information he’d gotten. The team had been understanding, though Tim had kept sending him concerned looks.

When his brain wasn’t quite feeling like his spam folder anymore, Kon sat back on a bale of hay and let himself think back to earlier that afternoon.

In the end, Tim had been merciful and skipped over the more embarrassing physiological aspects of presenting, promising he’d forward the presentation to Kon later so he could learn those parts at his leisure. Then Tim had made sure to say he’d be available for questions any time. 

(Dork.)

Kon wasn’t planning on looking at those files any time soon. He still had a lot to digest regarding what he had learned about Kryptonian society that afternoon, and from the glimpses Kon had caught of those diagrams, the physiology wasn’t going to be much better. He had already been trying hard not to think of how much things had to rearrange around for Clark to be theoretically able to get pregnant.

The society Tim had gone on to present when he got into the more sociological aspect of gender roles in Krypton was honestly dystopian. Though before the advent of genetic engineering, things hadn’t seemed that bad. 

The population had originally been divided into Guilds, with three more important ones - the Military, the Scientific and the Law Makers guild - and a handful of secondary ones, like the Artisan Guild or the Farmer’s Guild. Citizens had been free to choose their guild, however, and could change between guilds during their life without consequences.

Things started to get a little weird when one got into how gender roles had worked back then. Apparently, one’s Guild and tridynamic gender were pretty much aligned. Alphas made up the Farmers and Military guilds, generally filling the roles of defenders and providers. Meanwhile, Betas composed the Scientific and Artisan guilds; they were the holders of knowledge, the teachers and academics, in charge of educating and raising children into maturity. Omegas, finally, were the leaders, the guides, represented by the Law Makers and the Religious Guild. As they were the more numerous caste, an unpresented beta could identify as an omega or an alpha and fulfill that societal position. Which had gradually become everyone as presentation rates had decreased due to scientists messing the genetic variability of the population. By that point, instead of choosing their own guild, citizens were made to order, their genetic profile designed for a given function, without being given an option. And presenting was nothing more than an old, ancestral memory in their history.

So fucking bleak.

It didn’t matter - or didn’t have to matter - but Kon couldn’t help but feel kind of depressed at learning what a nightmare Krypton had been before its destruction. He was so used to thinking himself as part Lex Luthor and part Superman, with the kryptonian side being the good one. Kon wore the shield of the House of El with pride, had done so since he had broken out of his test tube. But now he felt anything but pride at his kryptonian heritage. 

And things hadn’t really gotten better when they got to the ‘formulating questions for Jor-El’ part of the evening, either, at least at the start. By that point, Kon’s head had already felt overfull, mind going a mile a minute thinking about all the things he had learned.

“And that’s all I brought today,” Tim had finished his presentation, shutting down the projector. He then sat on the floor in front of the other three, who adjusted to form a circle, wordlessly. “Though I still have a lot of questions. And I imagine so do you, Kon.”

“I guess,” Kon said somewhat numbly. He didn’t even know where to start. Cassie rubbed Kon’s arm reassuringly and Tim smiled at him encouragingly.

“Do you want to take a break? Or continue this another day?” Cassie asked, voice kind and soft. Kon shook his head. Better to get it over with.

He said as much, and Tim nodded resolutely. Tim had his investigative expression on, which did wonders to soothe some of Kon’s turmoil.

(He really liked Tim’s investigative face, ok? Not a crime. It was reassuring. It meant Tim was on it , and Tim didn’t let things go once he was on them. It was nice to know someone was on his corner.) 

“I think the first question should be what sets a presentation off. There was no mention of it in the files I could find, which is very strange.” 

Aaaand the turmoil was fully back on. Of course Tim would zero in like a hound on the one thing Clark didn’t want him to. Though Kon did agree it was strange the files bore no mention of finding a compatible mate setting off presentation. Maybe Clark had edited those details out so the Bat wouldn’t know? Either way, Kon did his best to look curious instead of nervous.

“Maybe it is one of those things that was so obvious to them that they felt no need to write it down,” Bart supplied, offering Tim a bag of sour gummies. Tim did not look convinced while he munched on a gummy worm.

“Maybe. Regardless,” Tim continued once he was done chewing, since he was the only one in the team who had manners. “I don’t think it was a matter of development. Superman is almost thirty, it seems like a strange age to reach sexual maturity, if it were.”

“Maybe Kryptonians mature differently? Like, slower,” Bart asked, shrugging.

“That wouldn’t explain why it only happened to some Kryptonians, though,” Cassie was quick to point out.

“Exactly,” Tim agreed, nodding vigorously. He then turned to Kon, who tried not to fidget when Tim’s eyes landed on him. “What do you think?”

The thing was, Clark had told Kon what set off his presentation. Love, for whom Jor-El apparently called a ‘compatible mate’. Not just any crush, but someone your body recognised as being The One for you.

In Kon’s case, he was pretty sure that it was Tim.

“Uh, I don’t know?” was all Kon managed to say. And there must have been something in his voice, or his face, or fuck, his aura , who knew with Bats, because Tim narrowed his eyes at Kon in a considering manner.

“Wait. Did Superman tell you why it happened?”

“What? Ah, no, nooo. Nope.”

Fuck, Kon sucked at lying, especially to Tim. It was a problem.

“Kon,” Tim said, with a flat tone a dangerous look in his eyes - the look of a curious Tim. When he got like that, there was nothing that would stop him before he got the information he wanted. It was the dark side of investigative Tim.

“You don’t know or you aren’t telling us?” Cassie asked from his side, though there was no judgement in her voice.

 Kon considered his friends, all of whom were looking at him in expectation. Kon loved them, but he also knew they were bad at letting things go without an explanation.

He sighed.

“Kal asked me not to tell,” Kon explained, hoping it was enough.

“Why?” Bart asked while examining the cold remnants inside the popcorn bowl, so reflexively that Kon had to snort.

“Explaining would be telling,” Kon said, with the trademark cocky smirk that his friends confidently told him made him look like a bit of a douche. As expected, Tim rolled his eyes at Kon.

“That’s fair, I suppose,” Tim said, though he looked a bit twitchy. “Superman is entitled to privacy.” It seemed almost like Tim was talking more to himself than anyone else.

“Well, I have another question,” Bart piped up, and Kon braced himself. “Which one are we thinking Kon is going to be?” 

Kon looked at Bart in surprise. They had just talked about how it might not happen to Kon, but Bart was so assertive.

“I think he’ll be an Alpha,” Tim replied, easily.  Kon’s eyes shot to Tim. He didn’t have time to even start processing what he had said before Cassie was piping in.

“Nah,” Cassie promptly disagreed. “He’s omega all over.”

”Are you just saying that because Superman is an omega? Or because they are like the chick?” Bart, never subtle, asked.

“Omegas aren’t the chick . I think the whole point is exactly that you don’t necessarily need for there to even be a chick,” Tim pointed out with an eye roll.

“And I would never expect Kon to do anything just because Supes did it,” Cassie huffed pointedly at Bart.

“Do you have a preference?” Tim, who was sitting across from him, gently asked a stunned Kon. Kon tried not to blush from being under Tim’s full attention and the softness in his voice, and considered the question for a few moments.

“No formed opinion yet,” Kon answered honestly and with a smile, which Tim returned. 

 From what Clark had explained, characteristics of the older, hierarchically higher mate would determine one’s gender after presentation. As Kon had pointed out, he was penniless and technically just out of toddlerhood. Tim, his team leader and a billionaire, was definitely the hierarchically higher of the two of them.

So it would be a matter of what Tim read as to his physiology - as an omega or an alpha. He wasn’t sure which would be more fitting - he’d need to investigate more before forming an opinion. And, truthfully, at that point, Kon would be glad to present at all, it didn’t matter as what.

From either side of him, Cassie and Bart had started bickering over alphas and omegas, and who on the Justice League would be which. Soon enough, Kon and Tim found themselves dragged into the discussion, which soon devolved into a cold popcorn fight.

Kon had not minded moving on from the discussion of kryptonian sex and gender. He could meet with Tim again in the future to figure out what else he should ask Jor-El, but at that moment he had wanted to enjoy being with his friends. Who could be a pain in the ass but also made something inside Kon soft and tender with the way they’d been there to support him.

Kon wasn’t exactly normal - not that any of them were, true , but he was a half-alien clone . It certainly beat speedster or even Amazon in the weirdness scale. And, deep down, he had always been a bit afraid people would realise that - that he was a freak - and reject him.

But the team had taken learning about his weird ass sex dynamic in stride. Like it was just another thing about their friend, no biggie. He was really lucky to have them as friends. 

Not for the first time that day, Kon found himself thinking about Clark. It wasn’t a lie to say Kon had always held some resentment at the fact that Clark had never really shared anything about Krypton with him. But maybe that was why - maybe Clark had been sparing Kon? Or at the very least, maybe Clark hadn’t wanted to talk about it because it wasn’t a pleasant subject for him. Kon also knew Clark’s first meeting with other Kryptonians, during Zod’s invasion, had been traumatic to say the least, and Kon had assumed that was at least part of it. But maybe that hadn’t been the whole reason. 

Feeling a surge of empathy at the sole other kryptonian on Earth, Kon took his phone from his pocket and snapped a quick picture of Daisy, their oldest cow, and sent it to Clark, with a message saying ‘Daisy sends her love ’.

To Kon’s surprise, Clark replied quickly.

From: Big Blue

Give her an ear scratch for me, will you?

Kon was about to pocket his phone with a smile when his phone shook with a notification. When he looked, it was another message from Clark.

From: Big Blue

How are you doing, Conner?

Despite himself, Kon smiled down at his phone. He could tell Clark was trying .  Had been for a while now. He appreciated it.

‘ Good ’ Kon texted back, because he decided he was done feeling like shit about things he couldn’t change. ‘ You should come to the farm when you can. Ma misses you,’

Kon then pocketed his phone and scratched behind Daisy’s ear as promised, before leaving the barn and making for the house. He still had a lot to think about - had to figure out how he felt about a lot of things - but he also had to remember, he wasn’t alone.

There were people who’d be there for him through thick and thin.

Chapter Text

The weeks after Tim's visit to the Kent farm were truly… something. 

On one hand, Tim loved being able to help Kon, loved that Kon trusted Tim enough to let in and show his vulnerability. He was proud Kon had asked for his help, and even prouder Kon had shared what was going on with Cassie and Bart, too. All things considered, Kon was handling things much better than Tim probably would, if their places were reversed, and Tim admired his friend’s strength and felt honored he could help him in any way.

On the other hand, Tim might, like. Legitimately die at any minute.

Helping Kon with understanding kryptonian gender dynamics was, in theory, a completely innocuous thing to do. Just something a bro would help another bro out with.

(Probably. Tim had no idea how ‘bros’ lived their lives.)

But then he had to read a lot about kryptonian physiology and sexual characteristics, to help Kon understand them. And it was fine. It wasn’t Kon’s fault that Tim’s mind was a filthy, filthy place and that his personal fantasies had taken a definite turn at learning the ins and outs of kryptonian natural reproduction.

Tim could tough it out. Talk about heats and ruts with a completely straight face. Explain in detail how male kryptonians would start producing slick when they presented as omega. How alphas had a phallus increase and developed a knot . He could remain professional and deal with it all. Especially when he saw just how thankful Kon was to have someone helping with it all.

But then.

Then, thoughtlessly, Tim had suggested they learn about human gender and sexuality so they have a comparison framework. And that was also fine! Tim had realised he had a lot of gaps in his knowledge about the subject, and found it a legitimately interesting area.

The problem, the issue, the crux of the matter had been that this all had led to talking about Kon’s sexuality - and, by extension, Clark’s. And, incidentally, Tim’s own.

“It is kind of a mind fuck, to be honest,” Kon had been saying. “Clark was all ‘I don’t see gender’, and I get it, and that’s his prerogative, but that’s not how I feel at all . Like, at a point I thought maybe I did, but nope, turns out there’s just dudes for me.” Tim, who had been listening attentively like a good friend, was startled at Kon’s revelation. He had thought-

“But what about Cassie?” Tim blurted out, his mind racing a mile a minute. Kon was always flirting with girls, and sure, maybe that didn’t have to mean anything - and maybe it had been a while since Kon had done that, actually, now Tim thought about it - but Kon and Cassie had dated for months, even if that had been years before.

“We were in our comphet era,” Kon replied, cheeky, and if Tim didn’t know Kon he might have not noticed he was nervous about something. “Cassie was a great help, actually, when I figured it out. I was a bit freaked out, I guess.”

“I know the feeling,” Tim admitted, trying not to let it get to him that Kon hadn’t come to him . Kon was allowed to have other friends and to seek other people for support, after all. Tim didn’t own him.

“You never said,” Kon said, picking at a tear in his jeans and startling Tim with the way he seemed to echo Tim’s own thoughts, but pointing at Tim.

“I was afraid, for a long time. Still am, I guess,” Tim admitted. “You... also never said.”

Kon shrugged at Tim. 

“We never really talked about that stuff. Besides, aren’t you a detective?”

“Number 17 of the ethical Bat rulebook, no using our detective skills to discover a person’s sexuality unless it is for a case ,” Tim quoted, solemnly, before breaking out into a laugh. “Seriously, I do try not to pry into really personal stuff.”

“Fair enough.”

They had eventually gone back to watching the video on the difference between sexual attraction and romantic attraction that Kon had found, but the conversation had gotten stuck in Tim’s mind. 

Not only did he now know for a fact Kon was into guys - something he had been quietly hoping for for a long time - but so was Clark , despite what Bruce had insisted on for years.

(Kon didn’t seem to realise he had outed Clark to Tim, though to be fair Tim had been fairly certain Clark was in love with Bruce for years now. So. Not the most shocking of revelations. But maybe it would be good to find some material on queer ethics to show Kon along with the sexuality stuff.)

It was armed with way more knowledge about kryptonian reproduction than he should have technically have had and with perhaps too many cans of Zesti running through his system, that Tim finally decided to talk to Bruce. The man had been gloomier than usual over the last few weeks, and Tim would eat his bo-staff if it didn’t have to do with Clark. And the truth was Tim was starting to get worried about Bruce. Nothing good came out of letting the older man sink into his darkest moods, not for anyone involved, much less Bruce himself.

“Hey, Bruce, have a minute?” Tim asked, after being told to enter the office by the older man.

“Sure, son,” Bruce said, in his usual baritone, before turning his computer monitor to the side so he could see Tim properly. “Take a seat.” Tim did so, taking comfort in the familiar feel of the leather chair under him. “What did you want to talk about?”

Tim took a deep breath and went into a heavily redacted version of events where Kon had told him about kryptonian presentation and Clark becoming an omega and needing a place to stay during his heats, and that Bruce didn’t have to worry about making up excuses for it anymore.

(Tim didn’t quite say, but made it clear enough, that at this point all of Bruce’s children were aware of what was going on. Truth was, Tim wasn’t quite sure how the others had figured it out, but it had quickly become a hot topic in their group chat. There was perhaps some betting of a dubious nature going on.)

Bruce didn’t seem fully convinced of what Tim had told him, but he could tell the moment the other man decided not to investigate further not to give himself a headache. Bless his heart.

“Now you understand why I needed you to vacate the premises, then,” Bruce said, seeming to already be moving on mentally from the conversation, but Tim wasn’t about to let him go that easily. Tim was, if nothing else, tenacious. 

“Yeah, sure. Clark needs a safe space and all that,” Tim agreed, and looked at Bruce expectantly, waiting for the other man to elaborate. When he didn’t, Tim decided to take the plunge. “So, you’ve been, ah, helping him out? With this whole thing?”

In for a penny, in for a pound, as they said.

Bruce sighed tiredly and looked like he’d suddenly developed a headache, not an unusual look when he was dealing with a determined Tim, if he was being honest. Tim had to hold back the urge to laugh at how done Bruce looked.

“ Tim .”

“What? I’m just saying! This could be your shot, B.”

“I am not having this conversation with you.”

“Why not?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Don’t be like that, Bruce! You know I like Clark. We all do. And I think you’d do well together!” Sure, Tim wasn’t Clark’s number one fan at times, but lately the older man had been better to Kon, and the fact of the matter was that he would be good to Bruce. And Bruce deserved a win, to have someone to love and to love him back beyond his wild rabble of children.

“Tim,” Bruce repeated, and this time he looked defeated in a way that pinged alarm bells in Tim’s mind.

“What is it, Bruce? Did something happen?” Tim investigated Bruce’s crestfallen face as if he could find the explanation there. He started to feel honestly concerned for Bruce. “Seriously, Bruce. Is everything okay?” 

“The heat - means he has a mate, Tim. Clark might not have told this man about his feelings - I don’t believe he would have been rejected - but the point still stands, that Clark has strong enough feelings for him that they triggered a presentation.”

Tim didn’t have to make a point to look surprised, his brows scrunching up in thought - but probably not at the news Bruce expected. So a kryptonian presented when they found a suitable mate - what a strange thing to omit from the informational texts Tim had acquired from Bruce’s private files. He’d have to take another look at them with that information in mind.

“You sure it’s a guy? I thought you said Clark was straight,” Tim said, innocently, pretending he had no idea.

“Apparently I was wrong,” Bruce admitted through gritted teeth, which Tim did not rejoice at. No, the sight was more disturbing than anything else, and Tim’s brows went up in surprise.

“I know betting on people’s sexualities is shitty, but you would owe us, like. So much money if we had,” Tim couldn’t help but point out. They had been telling Bruce for years Clark wasn’t as straight as Bruce seemed to think, after all.

“You already have access to all my money, Tim.”

“I know, it’s the principle of the thing.”

Both were silent for a few moments, each deep in their own thoughts. If Clark had a potential mate that had caused him to present, Tim had no doubt it was Bruce. Which obviously Bruce would be blind to, because that was the man he was. And clearly Clark was hesitating to tell Bruce for some reason.

At that pace, those two doofus would never get together without a little help. 

It was then an idea occurred to him - and, before he could second guess himself, Tim plunged on.

“You shouldn’t let that stop you, you know, you should - offer a hand. You didn’t know Clark wasn’t straight, maybe he doesn’t realize you’re, you know. Someone who could possibly be interested. Maybe it’s what he needs to forget about the guy, you never know.”

Tim did his best to keep his face innocent as Bruce looked at him with an appalled expression, which, nonetheless, contained a spark of interest.

“Anyway, just give it a thought, ok? You deserve to be happy B. I have to prepare for a meeting, but I’ll be at dinner tonight, I’ll see you then!” Seeing Bruce was speechless, Tim took the chance to bolt, leaving the man to stew in the thoughts Tim had planted in his head.

Sometimes it was like Tim had to do everything himself in the family, sheesh. 

Later that same day, once he was done with his work activities, Tim found himself sitting in front of his computer, tweaking the parameters of the translation program he had used on the kryptonian files. Eventually, he hit gold - and confirmed his hypothesis, all in one take.

The bits of text that had previously been left untranslated turned out to refer to the mate’s role in kryptonian presentation. The reason why they had been left untranslated was soon pretty clear. While the rest of the text followed a very rigid and somewhat repetitive structure, which had made it possible to be translated in the first place. The parts that referred to a mate, however, broke that pattern. They seemed almost incomplete, missing parts of the pattern. Once Tim could read it, he could see how trails of thought dropped off mid reasoning, how there seemed to be information missing.

Which was how Tim concluded they had been tampered with; the signs were undeniable once Tim knew what to look for. 

All that was left was the question of who could have been to edit those files. Tim’s first suspect should be Bruce, since the files were in his computer, but there was no motive - Bruce would be irked to know he had partial or redacted information, in fact. He was a sticker for having all information - hiding files with incriminating information was much more his style rather than not writing things down at all.

Bruce discarded, Tim was left with Clark.

And it made sense. If Tim was right, and Bruce was the reason Clark had presented, then there had to be a reason why Clark hadn’t told Bruce yet. Meaning there was a reason Clark didn’t want Bruce to know, whatever that was. It followed, then, that he would have wanted to edit out whatever information that might lead Bruce to that conclusion. What that information might be, Tim could only extrapolate, but it would probably be damning. 

Tim pushed off so his chair would turn around slowly, letting himself think about something he had been holding back so far.

If he was right, and Bruce was Clark’s mate-to-be, it meant, as rare as presentation was, a kryptonian still could present for a human.

Which meant Kon’s odds of presenting were much higher than he had previously estimated.

That fact would probably make Kon happy, if Tim pointed it out to him. To Tim, it made him surprisingly anxious.

If anyone would make Kon present, it surely wouldn’t be Tim. It had taken Batman for Superman to present. They were a legendary duo of superheroes. Kon would probably present to someone equally awesome. Not… just Tim.

And what was worse, if Kon presented for someone else, Tim had no doubt that this hypothetical other person would never let go of Kon. Because why would they?

And that meant Tim would never have a chance.

Chapter Text

The sun was rising in horizon, the birds were singing and Kon was in the midst of finishing his morning chores when he registered the sound of a very fast object coming the farm’s way. Turning towards the noise, Kon squinted in its direction, trying to make out the object. Nothing on the ground, so not one of the Flashes. Kon then scanned the sky, finally making out Clark’s shape quickly approaching the farm. 

He finished throwing the chickens' food and hurried over to the house to tell Ma Clark was coming. She was going to be delighted - it had been a while since Clark had come over.

Truth be told, Clark visiting the farm took Kon by surprise. Mostly because it had only been three days since his heat had started ( not that Kon was keeping track - but he talked to Tim, and Tim had mentioned staying at the penthouse because Bruce had kicked them out again, and Kon’s memory maybe wasn’t, like, photographic but he still had a pretty good memory, so he remembered it had lasted longer last time, was all). But also because Clark had been avoiding the farm somewhat recently.

And Kon wasn’t judging - he figured telling your mom about going into heat had to be a weird experience for a dude - but it did mean it was all the more surprising that Clark would come to the farm so close to his heat.

He was still clearly out of sorts, Kon could see from the way he landed amid the chickens, scaring them all off in different directions. Generally speaking, Clark was a better flier than that when in possession of his full capabilities.

At least no one seemed hurt, only a few ruffled feathers here and there.

“Ma!” Kon called as he came into the house. “Clark’s here,” he added when he found her in the living room. He couldn’t help but smile at the way Ma’s whole face lit up at the news. Ma was tinkering with their moody toaster when Kon came in, but she quickly put it down when he spoke.

“Oh, wonderful!” Ma said. She stood and made her way to the kitchen, to heat up some breakfast and make some fresh coffee. After a moment of consideration, Kon went after her to help.

Clark hadn’t been far behind, coming inside before long, finding them easily in the kitchen.

“Morning, Kon,” he said, putting a hand on Kon’s shoulder and giving it a genial squeeze. Kon’s hands were busy pouring hot water into the coffee filter, but he gave Kal a smile in return.

“Hello, my dear,” Ma said when she hugged Clark. “It’s so good to see you,” she added, gently, but Kon flinched in sympathy just the same. Ma’s guilt game could be strong , though, like Clark, she used her powers responsibly and only when necessary. 

“About that,” Clark said, and though Kon couldn’t see him - coffee was a serious business in the Kent farm - he could imagine him scratching the back of his neck as he explained superficially that he’d recently had some ‘biological changes’ that apparently were ‘normal for kryptonians’, but had been complicated to get used to. Ma listened well, only making noises of ascent and empathy while Clark clumsily spoke.

“It is actually why I am here today,” Clark finally said, and Kon had to use his TTK to stop the coffee from spilling from the cup he was placing in front of Ma, from the surprise of it. Surely that didn’t mean- 

“I wanted to take Kon to the kryptonian ship to see if it is something that could happen to him in the future,” Clark said, looking right at Kon as he placed another cup of coffee in front of Clark. Kon busied himself with getting his own cup and finally taking a seat at the kitchen table along with Ma and Clark. There were also reheated pancakes and some eggs, and though Kon had already had breakfast he made himself a plate.

He’d need the energy if he was going to fly to the freakin Arctic !

Excited, Kon was too busy thinking of all the things he wanted to ask the Jor-El AI, so he barely paid attention as Clark - far too easily - convinced Ma to let Kon skip out on school for the day, just this once.

(It wasn’t just this time, they all knew. Superheroing was unpredictable like that. But Ma must have seen something in Clark’s face because she did not point it out.)

Soon Kon had changed his clothes for his uniform and they were making their goodbyes and taking to the sky.

“Let me know if you need to slow down, alright?” Clark called out from where he was hovering above the clouds. Kon had to fight the urge to roll his eyes and just followed Clark instead. 

Flying with Clark was a unique feeling. It was both exhilarating, something about it feeling right , and also somewhat annoying. It just seemed like flight came so easily to Clark, and he was so absurdly fast , while Kon still caught himself using his TTK to steady himself in the air, even though he wasn’t supposed to need it. Clark, after all, didn’t.

But that day Kon was too excited about the idea of finally seeing the kryptonian ship turned fortress to be too bothered about it. 

(Also maybe therapy was working. That was always a possibility.)

They couldn’t really talk much while flying, not at the speed they were going, but Kon needed to focus anyway, so he didn’t mind. Plus, the view was stunning.

And the portion of his brain that wasn’t busy paying attention so he didn’t start losing attitude - a recurring problem, he’d almost flown right into a commercial plane more than once, it was so embarrassing - was busy thinking about what was to come.

He was probably going to find out if he could present that day. That was certainly his first question. Everything else was irrelevant depending on the answer.

Kon’s stomach got twisted into warm knots when he thought of the possibility of having it confirmed that he could. Sure, the idea of going through superpuberty was a little freaky, but he just liked the idea, too. It sounded… romantic. 

Maybe he shouldn’t think that, should be freaked out that his body could change beyond his control, but Kon found he felt the opposite. The idea that love could define his body in a way that the people who’d made him to be a weapon hadn’t been able to touch… Kon just liked it.

But of course, there was also the chance that he couldn’t . That his DNA was such a messy patch job that he wasn’t kryptonian enough to have the potential to present.

Kon liked that option much less . 

To Kon’s chagrin, they had to make several small stops along the way for him to rest. But Clark was nice about it, so it was whatever. It did make the trip longer, but the other option was letting Clark carry him and Kon was not about to do that. He had some pride in his flying, even if it wasn’t the best , alright?

By the time they arrived at the ship/fortress Kon was glad to be touching ground but his exhaustion was soon replaced by awe at the sheer size of the structure. It was clear it had, at one point, started out as a ship, but it had clearly grown beyond that, a fusion of oddly organic-looking metal and the kind of crystal that defined kryptonian architecture and technology.

Kon’s enrapture was broken when Clark lay a warm hand on his shoulder.

“Ready to go inside?” Clark asked, kind as ever. Kon cleared his throat and followed Clark inside, the door automatically opening for them.

Inside, the temperature was much warmer, something Kon was thankful for - not being harmed by cold didn’t mean extreme cold felt nice - and there was a tall, bearded dude made of light waiting for them.

Jor-El the AI, Kon had to assume. A computerized version of Clark’s - Kal’s - biodad.

Who was something to Kon, he presumed. Kon was called Kon- El , after all. His… patriarch ? Maybe?

Anyway. Whatever the man - AI? - was, he was currently looking at Kon with a great deal of interest. Clark, meanwhile, was looking somewhat uncomfortable. Which, Kon guessed, maybe made sense, since he’d have to explain Kon to his biodad and all. It was a bit awkward.

“Jor-El, meet Kon-El. I have told you about him.”

Kon blinked. Clark had? Kon hadn’t expected that.

“Well met, Kon-El.”

“Uh, hi. Well met,” Kon replied awkwardly, wondering if there were any sensors he should be making ‘eye contact’ with, or if looking at the hologram was fine. It should be - it was what Clark was doing.

“How can I be of assistance to you today?” Jor-El asked.

“Kon here wanted to know if presenting is something he could have to worry about some day,” Clark explained, which wouldn’t have been how Kon would have worded it, but sure.

“Since I’m not, you know, fully kryptonian,” Kon felt compelled to add - maybe Clark hadn’t told the AI that? But the projection merely nodded, like the fact wasn’t news. 

“Very well. Follow me.”

They didn’t have to walk far before they arrived at a room that Kon guessed was the original medical bay of the ship.

“The scan should be fairly quick,” Clark explained as he gestured towards a piece of equipment large enough to fit a full grown kryptonian, some sort of bioscanner. Kon stepped into it, his stomach churning on high. Anything related to doctors and medical shit was pretty low on Kon’s list of things he enjoyed, to put it mildly.

After a few moments where nothing much seemed to happen - no cool lights or ominous sounds - the AI broke the silence.

“Very good,” Jor-El said, and if an AI could sound self-satisfied, this one certainly did that.

“So…?” Kon asked, anxious, when nothing else was forthcoming, stepping out of the scanner as soon as it was clear that it was done.

“You might have to worry about presenting sooner than you’d expect. You are already in the process of change.”

Clark was clearly shocked when he heard it, demanding confirmation, but Kon paid him little mind. 

Not only was he capable of presenting - it was already happening, to some degree.

“When?” Kon asked, and his voice sounded oddly breathless. Clark looked at Kon with surprise, but Kon paid him no mind.

“It is hard to tell, as there are many factors that could accelerate or delay the process of presentation. It could still be years.” The AI wasn’t exactly gentle, but the clear, direct way he spoke was reassuring.

“And what am I, uh, going to be?” Kon asked when Jor-El didn’t say anything else. He risked a look at Clark, who was observing Kon with interest.

Aaaand that turned out to be the wrong thing to say, apparently. At least that was what he got from how closed off Jor-El suddenly looked.

“One should know their future designation as one should know their future partner,” the AI said, voice stern. Kon flinched despite himself.

“Yeah, but I - uh. My possible future partner isn’t kryptonian.” Kon sneaked another look at Clark, feeling his cheeks blush.

“You know what, I really need to use the replicator - why don’t I go do that and give you some room to talk?” Clark, bless his soul, offered, clearing noticing Kon’s discomfort.

“Thanks,” Kon said, genuinely. Clark left quickly, and Kon turned back to the AI who was still giving him the stink eye.

“It matters not that they are not Kryptonian. You should know them well enough to ascertain their role.”

Kon stared at the hologram with his mouth hanging open, stunned out of words.

“You told Clark! That he was an omega,” he was guessing, but from what Clark had told him it would make sense.

“Kal had already presented.” The AI sounded final, and Kon, for a few not so brief moments, really, really wanted to figure out if he could somehow make a hologram solid through the use of TTK and then punch it.

Deep breaths, man, deep breaths.

“Fine. So you won’t tell me when it will happen, not what will happen, just that. Something. Is happening. Great,” Kon snarked, mostly to himself.

Deep, calming breaths.

“Do you have further questions, Kon-El?”

“Yeah,” Kon admitted, feeling defeated. Just because he was a bit frustrated at the AI didn’t mean he should throw away the opportunity to know more. He thought back to the things he had discussed with Tim. “Why did Kryptonians start using stuff like the genesis chambers?” The AI’s expression seemed to ease as Jor-El entered lecture mode. As he spoke, images of Krypton were projected around them, showing changes that probably took thousands of years in real life, small settlements growing into incredible cities.

“Kryptonians were never the most fertile and Krypton was a harsh planet. Using technology to aid reproduction and increase our fitness started early in our history.

“For many eons, Kryptonians perfected our genome through the use of technology. The use of the genesis chambers along with DNA editing technology meant individuals could be made to order, ready to fit a necessary role in society, without the unpredictability of natural birth.

“However, looking back it is clear that our genome became too limited. Krypton’s eventual isolationism meant there was no new blood added to gene pool for eons. Certain genetic variations had become extinct due to being considered useless or undesirable. This created a uniform, unvaried society with a very restricted genome. A problem, compounded by the fact that genetic diversity is a major factor determining a compatible partner for presentation in Kryptonians.

“At last, the lack of genetic variety meant an unsustainable rate of presentation, with natural birth becoming nearly extinct. By the time all of this was realised, it was too late to turn back from the use of the genesis chambers. So we adapted.”

Chapter Text

It was 01:38 AM according to the red numbers from the clock on Kon’s bedside table. The clock was chronically around 3 minutes early, however, so Kon took that into account.

The bed creaked as Kon turned once more, feeling, despite himself and the day he’d had, wide awake. He had managed to doze for a few fitful hours after Ma had shooed him to his room, and his body, no doubt influenced by his over-excited mind, had apparently deemed that enough.

Clark had predicted and Kon had agreed that going to and back the Arctic in the same day would have left him exhausted, but apparently the frequent pauses for sunbathing and rest had done their job, or maybe it was just that his body refused to rest while his brain didn’t slow down.

His talk with Jor-El - the AI seemed so life-like Kon found himself having trouble reconciling with the fact that it was a mere computer program - had been… weird. And frustrating. A bit horrifying. But also - instigating. 

Kon had thought he wouldn’t have much to talk to the kryptonian after the refusal to divulge his kryptonian dynamic, but it turned out he had been wrong. Requesting materials for learning Kryptonian had instantly mollified the AI, which was only intensified by Kon revealing his would-be-mate wanted to learn, too. 

The AI’s effusiveness, in turn, made Kon more conciliatory, and he decided to ask the AI to tell him about Krypton - the good things. Things that didn’t have to do with genetic and social engineering.

And so Jor-El did.

Kon later thought that he should have expected it, but it hadn’t occurred to him until Jor-El pointed it out, but the dynamic sex system had meant there had been no difference between couples composed of different sexes in the eyes of society. Homophobia, even as a concept, had not existed in Kryptonian society.

So they didn’t, like, completely suck. The El House apparently had a history of caring for endangered creatures, which was pretty cool, too. Like, objectively speaking.

So Kon dared ask something he might not have, otherwise.

“So, how did kryptonians view, like. Clones.” As hard as it was to get it out, looking at the AI afterwards was even worse.

“It depends,” the AI hedged, which caused Kon’s eyes to shoot up at him in confusion. 

“On?”

“Why you ask,” Jo-El completed, completely unhelpful.

“That makes no sense?”

Could AIs sigh? Because Jor-El totally sighed.

“Kryptonian law pretty strictly outlawed cloning and cultural mores around the subject were in accordance to that,” Jor-El pronounced, almost mechanically. “But you would not be considered a clone by kryptonian standards.”

Kon froze with his mouth open, halfway through saying something that had already completely fled his mind.

What.

“What do you mean, not a clone?” Kon eventually managed to say. “I was literally created from, uh, Kal’s DNA to replace him. To be a weapon.”

“Your DNA is not identical to Kal’s,” Jo-El said, simply, in reply. “It is, in fact, sufficiently different from all original sources to class you as an individual code rather than a modification upon a template. As for your intention upon creation - making custom fit individuals to fill vacant roles in society was the kryptonian way for ages. In that, you are more kryptonian than Kal, who was born without a guild or a function.”

Chewing his lip, Kon thought for a moment before asking his next question.

“Why did you decide to have Kal? He wasn’t an accident, was he?”

“Not at all,” Jor-El replied, with a rare smile of fondness. “Kal was very much planned. We wanted to give him that which none in krypton had had for an age. Choice. The freedom to be who he wished, as he wished.”

“Oh,” Kon muttered, feeling the familiar stab of… not quite jealousy, but that nebulous sad and envious feeling he so often had regarding Kal - though it had been better lately. “That’s cool, I guess.”

Just. Why did Kal always have to be extra special?

Jor-El, seemingly noticing the change in Kon’s demeanor, tactfully changed the subject.

“Would you like to learn about your kryptonian namesake?”

Which, alright, fair, might’ve gotten Kon to perk up. The day Clark had named Kon, he had told him he’d found Kon’s name in the family registry, but he hadn’t known much about the person, only that he’d been held in high regard. Jor-El, meanwhile, knew the story with much more depth.

The original Kon had apparently been an honorary member of the House of El. A notoriously fierce omega, as Jor-El told it, who had aided the family of Jyt-El escape the capital during a civil war, leading to them ultimately settling in Kandor. His tale led into another story about those who Jor-El called Kon’s ancestors, and by the time Kal was back from wherever he’d gone off to, Kon’s head was filled with kryptonian history, and more.

Kon was introspective during most of the flight back, reflecting on everything he learned. Krypton and kryptonian culture had definitely been more nuanced than Kon’s original impression. There were a lot of things that made him go Yikes™, sure, but it wasn’t all bad.

But the bad was pretty gnarly, tho.

It was just A Lot to process.

At a point, however, he was suddenly jolted by the fact that - wait, he was on his way to presenting.

Not that he’d forgotten but it had sort of slipped to the back of his mind.

The moment it came to the forefront, however, Kon grinned manically and did a triple loop in the air before tackling Clark mid-flight.

He was going to present! He’d have a mate!

The exhilaration had lasted the flight - and Clark sure looked relieved to unload Kon on Ma, but Kon didn’t really blame the guy, he looked like he’d had his own revelations while on the Fortress - and well into the night, until Ma had sent him to bed with a fond shake of her head.

But since he’d woken, all the excitement had somehow turned into apprehension.

Or, well, not apprehension, exactly, but a cousin of that feeling, heavy deep in his gut along with an electric buzzing under his skin.

Kon just…

He needed to talk to Tim. He wanted to talk to Tim.

Not even about Tim being his chosen mate, Kon wasn’t sure how to even broach that yet, but he wanted his best friend. To share all the stuff he had learned about himself and Krypton that day.

Kon looked at the clock again. About ten minutes had gone by since he’d last looked. With the timezone difference, it was just shy of one A.M. in Gotham. It was a patrol night, which meant that, if he took it a bit easy on the flying over, Tim would be home already by the time Kon arrived at the Manor.

Which was what he had decided to do, Kon realised with sudden clarity, already halfway through changing out of his pyjamas and into his favourite jeans, lucky jacket and that one sleeveless shirt that had been washed so thin it was almost transparent.

(He’d caught Tim staring at him while he wore that shirt more than once. Which could have meant nothing. Either way, sue him for wanting to look good. Plus it was crazy comfortable.)

He shot Tim a text, biting his thumbnail as he waited for a reply. Technically Kon knew he could just… show up at Wayne manor, the big bat would frown but that would be nothing new. But he wanted to be considerate.

Kon (sent 01:42 AM): hey

Kon (sent 01:43 AM): can I come over 

Kon (sent 01:43 AM): I wanted to talk about some stuff

Real smooth, Kent, Kon told himself as he re-read the message and waited for a reply. Knowing Tim it would either take less than 5 minutes or at least two days.

Thankfully, the stars were on his side that night, and Tim was quick to reply.

Tim (sent 01:44 AM): ye im omw home so come over wnvr ill b up 4 a few hrs al

God, Tim’s texting was atrocious, almost as bad as his sleeping habits.

(Kon lowkey loved him for it. Well, truth be told, he loved a lot of frankly embarrassing things about Tim - the guy was a bit of a gremlin. But Kon only loved him all the more for it.)

Kon took one last moment to scribble a note for Ma explaining where he would be, just in case she came looking for him in the middle of the night. He placed it on his pillow and then jumped out the open window, taking flight after letting himself fall for a second or two.

The cool Kansas night air, smelling faintly of grass and dew and something that was inherently Smallville did a lot to calm him down, though the idea that he was going to get to talk to Tim soon about all that he had learned was much more effective at that.

Turns out Kon managed to time his arrival perfectly. Tim was still steaming from his bath - literally - his hair damp and kind of mad looking, like he had gone at it with a towel and forgotten to brush it out afterwards.

They had settled on Tim’s bed, backs against the headboard and sides glued together. As Tim spoke - mostly corporate gossip he had learned while hacking Bruce’s professional e-mail for… some reason Kon wasn’t quite clear on; apparently patrol had been unusually slow - Kon could feel the heat radiating off his skin and into his own, since he’d taken off his jacket before jumping on the bed.

(Tim had looked. Not just looked, but looked. Score!)

Easy like anything, Kon took a deep breath of Tim’s shower-fresh scent and a knot in his stomach unravelled, taking with it part of the tension in his shoulders. Being in Tim’s room with his best friend was such a normal occurrence that it settled Kon in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“But anyway, enough about that, I don’t think you came all the way over here to listen about Ted Kord’s disastrous love life and its implications on stock prices,” Tim joked, turning his head slightly to look at Kon.

(They were really close. Not unusual, really, but it felt noteworthy.)

“You don’t know, maybe I’m actually here for some insider info.”

Tim chuckled and shook his head.

“Seriously, though. You sounded kind of off in your text.”

“I guess,” Kon admitted, losing the jokey tone. “Clark took me to the ship. You know. His ‘fortress of solitude’ or whatever. Though I guess taking me there sort of kills that whole concept. ”

“Oh, that’s great, Kon!” Tim exclamed. “How did it go?”

“Mostly alright, I guess? I spent most of it talking to Jor-El - well, the AI based off of Jor-El, Clark’s biodad.” Tim’s eyebrows rose an inch, but he kept his voice politely interested when he spoke again.

“And how did that go?”

“We didn’t get along right away but in the end he was nice? Like, Kryptonian nice. He told me some cool stuff about Krypton to, you know, balance out the awful. It was cool.”

“I’m glad,” Tim replied, smiling. “And did you learn anything about the whole presentation deal?”

 Over ten minutes - that was how long Tim had managed to control himself. Almost a record for Timothy Curiosity Drake-Wayne. 

Despite himself, Kon smiled at the question. 

“Yeah,” he answered, looking down at his hands in lap. “I can. It’s, hm, already started, actually.”

“Oh,” Tim said, sounding strangely hollow. “Congratulations? You wanted it, right?” Kon nodded, still smiling.

“You know what you’re gonna be, then?”

“Nope, that’s what Jor-El and I didn’t see eye-to-eye on. He wouldn’t tell me. Apparently it is a great Kryptonian taboo. I should already know from my - uh. Future partner. But it is not that straightforward for me?”

Tim looked to be thinking so hard that Kon could almost smell smoke.

“You do know who they are, right?” Tim eventually asked, cringing at his own question.

(Still, positively restrained and tactful by Tim’s usual standards.)

“Yeah, duh. C’mon, dude.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Tim said, defensively, crossing his arms. Then, after a moment of silence, he spoke much more quietly. “Who is it?”

And, at that moment, Kon let himself alter his speed of perception, everything going gelatinous and slow, as he considered what to do.

The thing was.

Kon could tell Tim. Or he could just… not.

It seemed to be working for Clark, from what Kon could tell. Sort of.

(Like, he was pretty sure Clark and the Bat were getting it on. But he could be wrong. He did not particularly want to be cleared up on that.)

But.

Did he want to be like Clark?

Seriously.

It was something Kon - and Tim - thought of and talked about often. Turns out that having a huge name in the superhero community be your paternal figure/DNA contributor/mentor came with quite a lot of baggage and expectations. Especially their own.

It was what had led to the game of mental health chicken that resulted in Tim and Kon starting therapy.

Because, sure, Kon looked up to Clark a lot, the same way that Tim looked up to Batman a lot.

But they were their own people.

(Which, perhaps therapy had also been needed to get to that belief, but Kon wasn’t thinking about that right then.)

And - crucially relevant in this case - in many ways, Clark and Mr Wayne were complete disasters.

Did he really want to take his cues from Clark Kent’s personal life?

Yeah, no. Kon wasn’t going to hide.

But! First and foremost, Tim was his best friend.

Which meant Kon was legally obligated to fuck with Tim for a bit, first.

“You’re really stupid for someone who is crazy smart, Rob,” Kon said, with a serious nod. In retaliation, Tim pushed Kon’s shoulder. He let his body move with the push, laughing easily at Tim’s blush of irritation. “Seriously, aren’t you supposed to be a detective and all that?”

Tim squinted at him, arms still crossed and hair completely wild, and Kon had to stop himself from kissing him.

(An irritated Tim was, quite frequently, very cute. Unless you were a goon or some kind of villain. Then it was just plain scary.)

Instead, Kon sighed dramatically.

“Who is my mate-to-be, oh great Red Robin?”

Tim’s eyes narrowed further, somehow. He looked clearly skeptical. Also like he was being blinded by the sun, only it was the middle of the night, and indoors.

“Is that some sort of trick question?”

“Can’t you humour me?”

It was Tim’s turn to sigh.

“I don’t- I don’t know!” Kon pouted at him. Tim looked like he was deciding whether he wanted to disappear or throttle Kon. “Argh, I don’t - Cassie, maybe?”

Kon gave Tim a flat, disappointed look, and shook his head.

“C’mon Rob, you can do better than that. Seriously, just do you bat-thing.”

“Bat-thing,” Tim echoed, deadpan. 

“You know what I mean. When you use your freaky brain and stalker tendencies to figure stuff out.”

“I don’t make a habit-,” Kon raised his eyebrows at Tim, who corrected himself. “I try not to make a habit out of doing my ‘bat-thing’ about people’s personal lives.”

“Well, you have my leave to do it. Surely then it is ok?”

“Fine,” Tim huffed, and then he looked pensive for a few moments. “Well, if you are going to present first, that means they have to be older or more important, right?”

“Pretty much.”

“I’m going to assume relative age, since I doubt your philogenesis understands cloning-related time shenanigans.”

“Valid,” Kon said, mock seriously.

“And can I assume it is someone age appropriate?”

Kon nodded, smiling wider. 

“And from what you said,” and there Tim blushed, Kon noticed, “it is probably a guy?”

“Yup, at least as far as I am aware.” Not that he thought Tim was secretly trans, but you never knew.

“That’s still too many options!” Tim whined, clearly frustrated. “Even if it is just people we both know, and I exclude everyone who is in a relationship, which I’m not sure is even a valid criterion, that’s still a lot of people. Can’t you give me a clue?”

Maybe he’d teased Tim enough.

“I can give you a couple,” Kon conceded. He was still nervous but that was when you could be brave, right? When you were afraid?

He took Tim’s hand in his. Tim, in return, looked like a deer caught by headlights.

“He’s pretty great. Very smart. Except when he’s pretty dumb. But he’s my best friend, so he gets a pass.” Tim’s mouth had dropped open and his face was fully flushed red. “He’s not hard to look at either, if you get what I mean. Even when he insisted on covering his pretty eyes with domino masks all the time.”

“Kon…” Tim muttered, looking at him in disbelief. “You’re not pulling my leg?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Kon said, gently, rubbing his thumb against the back of Tim’s hand. Then, he cleared his throat and felt himself blush. “But, hm. Can you - you sort of are leaving a brother hanging, here.”

“Oh!” Tim exclaimed and he suddenly got a harried look about him. “Am I supposed to say something specific? Some sort of tradition? Am I fucking this up?” Smiling widely, Kon brought Tim’s hand to his lips and kissed it in a soothing motion.

Tim looked like he was about to short-circuit.

(It was adorable.)

“I think just saying that you like me is more than enough for now,” Kon said, hopeful, and then winked at Tim over his hand.

“I like you,” Tim hurried to say, blushing furiously. “A lot.”

“I like you a lot, too,” Kon said, elation running through his veins. Being able to say it wouldn’t be getting old any time soon.

“Does that mean I can kiss you?” Tim asked, looking oddly shy and hopeful.

Kon was pretty sure his lips were about to crack from how wide his smile was.

“Absolutely, Rob. Whenever you want.” 

At his words, Tim dove forward, though he was experienced enough to slow himself down enough not to clash teeth.

And then he kissed Kon, his lips soft and chapped and ever-so-perfect. Kon raised his hand to get his hand in Tim’s soft, damp hair, cradling his head and Kon dove deeper into the kiss.

And that’s all they did for a while.