Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kon's rummaging through the cupboards for a midnight snack when a pale hand comes slamming right next to his head, stopping him dead in his search. A hand he's certain is very much calloused and scarred with long and dainty fingers, and he instinctively knows who it is before their name can even enter his asleep brain. The other doesn't touch him, caging him against the cupboards. He feels their presence behind him more than their body, their warmth settling in the space between them.

He turns his head just a little to the side and makes direct eye contact with a very well shaped biceps. And in his very sleep deprived state, he barely contains and resists the urge to bite the soft skin and strong muscle, before embarrassment settles in at the thought of actually doing that and the consequences. The fact that they're currently in the Tower's kitchen and technically — even though it's late and everyone's already asleep, except for the two of them — anyone could walk in at any moment doesn't help the shame creeping up his neck.

So, reluctantly, he turns away from the muscular and defined arm — that he definitely does not want to lick sweat off of — to meet its owner's icy blue eyes, underlined by dark eyebags. Robin, or rather Tim at the moment, looks at him sharply, his glare almost cutting. His mouth moves and he's pretty sure there are sounds that are certainly words coming out of it, but Kon's too mesmerized by his pretty mouth to make sense of them. He does pick up on the frustration and anger both on his face and in his tone, and he wonders why it's aimed at him. That thought is quickly discarded as he wonders what those lips taste like right now.

"Are you even listening to me ?" His friend asks, a scowl painted on his beautiful features that would have Kon more anxious if he wasn't so accustomed to it.

Kon really isn't, listening to him that is. His lovely voice is entering his ears, but none of the words are being recognized by his, at the moment, slow brain. They don't even sound like words, and they make even less sense. The only functioning thought in his head right now is to kiss the other senseless. And he really, really wants to do just that, but he's a bit scared of risking his life when Tim looks so angry. However, his friend's expression isn't helping Kon to get his mind out of the gutter. The intensity of it is only adding to the heat Kon feels.

He still doesn't know what this is about, but he likes the position they're in. He likes the way Tim presses him against the wall, and he would like it even more if the other was also squeezed against him instead of less than a foot away. He also wants to shift their places, to cage Tim against the wall and invade his space. He wouldn't pause at a respectable distance, but crowd his personal space so much there wouldn't be any air between their bodies, or their mouths for that matter. In fact, if he had it his way, they would already be in his room, on his bed, their clothes on the floor and his tongue on him.

Maybe if he managed to get his brain to connect and work, he would know what is currently happening. The faster this issue is resolved, the faster he can go back to his room to hide away. The faster he can ignore or indulge his not so pure thoughts. Or if he's lucky, the faster he could have the pleasure to turn these thoughts into reality. But right now, he only hums, his eyes barely open. Partially because he's tired and is only out of his bed to grab a quick snack before diving into his soft covers and fluffy pillows. Partially because if he looks at his friend for too long in his current state (tired and horny — actually, the other way around, horny and tired the longer they stay like that), he's going to do something bad. Like kiss Tim, suck at his neck, leave hickeys everywhere his mouth reaches, let his hands travel to his waist, then his hips and then his ass. So, he's trying really hard to not do all of that, clinging to his last bit of self-restraint desperately.

But Tim seems to be on another rhythm than him because he looks way more awake than he has the right to at — a rapid glance at the kitchen's clock, and yep — 00:38 or so am. And he apparently decided that now was the best moment to chide him about something he still hasn't tried to decipher. He's really not sure why he's here or what he wants, he hasn't been listening to Tim. His available brainpower is currently used and dedicated to take in his very hot best friend and act normal about all of this. As if their bodies aren't barely a foot away, as if he can't feel the other's warmth mixing with his own. They've been closer before, but that was mainly during fights or with the rest of the team, all pressed against each other.

But now, he's sleep deprived and they're alone and he wants to let his tongue wander on that beautiful neck and those sharp collarbones of his. And his biceps, goddamn, the instigators of his current crisis. Kon has his own, bigger than Tim's, but that's the thing, it's his and not his very handsome best friend's. If his arms were the same as Kon's, he may have already bit them. Rao, why is he surrounded by hot people ? Sure, hero's work helps with keeping a muscular body, but does everyone have to be ridiculously attractive on top of that ?

He takes in more of Tim's appearance, and he immediately almost regrets it. For once, he's not wearing a t-shirt that's two or three times his size. No, he's wearing a short-sleeved compression shirt highlighting his toned body, a very tight one. That is the point of those, to be tight, and Tim has wore tighter clothes he thinks. But his brain is very much asleep while his heart (and something else) isn't, and the urge to touch, to squeeze, to grip is back. He's not sure how he feels about the shirt, because he's trying really hard not to drool and to not give in to his impulses, but he's also admiring profusely and thoroughly his best friend like a delectable piece of meat. Should he ask Tim to keep it on or take it off ? No, wait, he should ask him to cover himself, that's better for his heart. He's having a very hard time focusing when his pectorals are right there and look so good.

Tim has sweatpants on, and those are definitely too big for him, definitely stolen from one of his brothers or Bruce. So big in fact, they fall precariously down his waist, almost past his hips. The string firmly knotted is the only thing preventing the pants from dropping completely. They fall so low that the shirt and the pants don't meet, and Kon's eyes are glued to the sliver of skin emerging from the gap. If he was just a tiny bit more conscious, he would berate himself for that, because Tim definitely noticed, but it's also his fault (it's really not) for dressing and looking like that. He has to wonder if Tim is doing this on purpose, if he's laughing his (nice) ass off at Kon's reaction, if he likes torturing him.

Kon's knees are a little weak and he's pretty sure Tim doesn't have any kryptonite on him. He hates it almost as much as Kryptonians do, hates to see them so vulnerable and hurt. Rao, that's so nice of him, even though any of his friends feel the same way towards the green stone, and that it's completely normal to hate something that hurts your friends. But Tim also has access to it and he's the one that's supposed to use it in any brainwashing situation. Instead, he comes up with more plans, with dozens of other solutions before he has to use the green gem, saving it for dead last and emergency cases. And all of that isn't helping his mind to get out of the rabbit hole of attraction it fell in. The urge to do something gets stronger, and he doesn't know how long he can contain it. It might be minutes or barely two seconds.

Tim tilts his head, his angry expression replaced with narrowed eyes and a curious glint in his eyes. Great, so he definitely knows something about Kon's thoughts. If the Super was braver and more conscious, he would confess to it in this very moment, when the tender, milky skin of the other's throat is exposed and looks like the perfect canvas for bruising kisses and love bites. Instead, he keeps his thoughts buried deep in his own head, where it's safe from any other prying eyes, where he only lets them out in the secure dead of the night. He waits for the other to say something, to move away or closer (preferably closer), to do something, anything. Which, eventually he does. He withdraws his arm and steps back, letting even more unwelcome space between their bodies. His face is carefully neutral, giving nothing away, as he speaks.

"We'll talk about this later, you look… tired."

Kon wants to laugh, because he couldn't see that earlier ?

"Yeah, I am," his hoarse voice almost cracks and he's as proud it didn't as horrified it almost did. "I'm just grabbing some snacks before going to sleep. Midnight crave, you know." Kon knows the crave is both about food and Tim.

"Yeah," there's an almost awkward pause, and then Tim moves to get back to whatever it is he was doing. "Sleep well then, don't let the bed bugs bite and all that."

Kon thinks that he would rather Tim biting him and watch him go, admiring his toned back and very nice ass.

Chapter Text

Tim's back in his room, working away on one of his current cases, because of course he can't work on only one thing to save his life. Or at least trying to, because whatever happened in the kitchen with Kon is still haunting him. He marched to him with the intent to finally get answers to his questions, to chide Kon about the unnecessary risks he keeps taking, putting himself — and the mission, but after so many years, Cassie and Tim became more than great at improvisation and having more than ten plans ready — in danger. He's so angry that his friend seems to not care about himself. He doesn't know why Kon went back to his old ways, but he doesn't like it one bit. He's just so careless lately, but only when it comes to himself. It's driving Tim mad. They're supposed to be past the recklessness, left behind in their adolescence, when they were still more allies than friends. Tim would like to know what's happening in Kon's head so he could stop trying to end up in an early grave — again (Tim can't live through that more than once, and even that was too much). Trying isn't the correct word though, Kon isn't being suicidal, just less considerate of his own well being. Tim is tired of premature deaths, he's seen too many of those, even if some ended up being fake to his relief, even if some people came back to his joy. But how many times can one trick death after all ?

(Well, Tim would answer that it entirely depends on who you ask, because a certain old man keeps evading it.)

So, the less risks his friend takes, even if he's invulnerable and very much skilled, the less chances there are for him to actually die. Today was just another one of those moments, the day too long and the fight too dangerous. And Kon acting reckless, like his life matters less than any other's. Tim had enough, so he went to confront him. And since he was on his 51st hour awake and just downed his 17 Red Bull (but who was counting really ?), he might have been a bit too intense. He expected to butt heads with Kon as usual when they argue. He expected Kon to get defensive and maybe get equally as angry as Tim has been.

But instead, he found Kon dazed and with something he can't decipher on his gorgeous face. There was something there, he knows it, but he has no idea what it could have been. So, he tries to refocus on his laptop, the screen darkening the longer his mind wanders to his friend's weird behavior. Trying being the operative word. The scene keeps switching back and forth in his mind, one second pushed aside, the next taking his entire attention. Attention that he's supposed to redirect towards his work and not use to figure out why Kon's face last night keeps haunting him — at least not now. Right now, he's supposed to look for clues as to where the villain of the week is going to strike next. He sighs and turns his computer on again, actually and actively working for less than three minutes before the previous events steal his focus. Because what the fuck was that ?

Kon just stood there, completely out of it and staring at him with something in his beautiful eyes, something else that all the tiredness he could see, something barely concealed by the exhaustion swimming in his captivating blue irises. It's almost maddening that he can't figure out what it is. Because Tim knows Kon. He knows his favorite pizza toppings, he knows his order at the coffee shop down the corner that always seems empty even if they make the best drinks any of them ever had, he knows what each of his sighs mean, he knows what's going on in his mind with just a shared glance — usually. But he doesn't know what that look was, just that it almost made his heart flutter. It definitely would have if he hadn't learned how to regulate his heartbeat all the time, since Kon confessed he listens to it every now and then. And if he decided to tune in on it at that moment, it would have been bad. After all, Kon knows how to read him as much as Tim knows how to read Kon. Which means he's not sure he could have gotten away with blaming his erratic heart on the mix of his overconsumption of Red Bull and exasperation.

Because if Kon had figured out his lie, then he would know about Tim's feelings, about the fact that those feelings are certainly not new. That's something Tim can't allow to happen, so he learnt to keep it the most regular he can. Of course, he can't be in total control and he still gets surprised and flustered, but he has to try and make it work. He doesn't have any other options. If he can't, then Kon will connect the dots and nothing will be the same ever again between them. It'll be shit, and Kon will be nice about rejecting Tim and staying friends and keeping things as they are, but it'll always be in the way of their friendship. And Tim can't ruin that. He can't lose Kon over a stupid crush (it's more than just a crush, but if he admits that to himself, he doesn't know what might happen). And so, just like with everything else in his life, he learns to control, compartmentalize and lie — mainly to himself. It's certainly a trait he picked up from Bruce if he didn't have it before. Sometimes, the line gets blurred.

Tim knows that Kon doesn't feel the same way about him, he isn't stupid. Kon deserves better than him, deserves more than Tim, it's only natural for him to not settle for less, for him, when he can and should have more, should have amazing, flawless, perfect. His friend is so kind and so caring, so gorgeous and so handsome, so strong and so brave. He's just so extraordinary, how could he want Tim out of all the people he could choose from ? But, the whispers in his mind like to tell him otherwise. Mislead him that Kon wants him too. Deceive him into believing that Kon likes him back. Lie to him about their relationship.

Tim knows better than to believe such illusions, but sometimes, he still likes to lay on his bed and let the whispers lull him into a sleep full of fantasies and delusions. The dreams are always about Kon in those moments. Kon with him, across a table in a nice restaurant with a gorgeous view, sitting on a couch glued to him, watching movies together, their limbs tangled. Kon in his arms, Kon against him, Kon on top of him, Kon under him, Kon over him, Kon between his legs, Kon and only Kon, Kon Kon Kon Kon. The whispers always win against his heart, but not his brain, not all the time. And when Tim wakes up from those dreams, he feels red hot shame. He always tells himself that it won't happen again, that he knows better than to believe false truths, hopeless desires and desperate yearnings. That no matter how much he wants and wants and wants, he knows he can't have, he'll never have. So, to distract himself from all of that, he does what he does best. He cracks open yet another Red Bull and drowns himself into work.

He's been at it for a while now. He's not sure how long, time always seems to disappear once his focus is completely immersed into work. His eyes shift to the corner of his laptop screen and the digital clock reads 10:16 pm. He's surprised none of his friends broke his door down and scolded him about holing himself up in his room yet. With a snort, he thinks that even though Bart can and sometimes does totally phase through his walls, he would bang his door off the hinges just for the dramatics before taking him in the kitchen, all of it under a second. Actually, they would all do that. Cassie already has and he has absolutely no doubts she can and will do it again if — or more likely when — she feels like it. Or more accurately, when he deserves it.

He goes over his last hours of consciousness and thinks that his last meal dates back to yesterday — or rather the day before he slept. Now that he thinks about it more, he surmises that he might have collapsed around 6 or 7 am. Since he feels definitely more refreshed than he has been in a while — despite the dreams — he deduces that he must have slept for 9 to 12 hours, consecutively. Which means that if his friends did come to check up on him, they found him dead asleep. It makes sense for them to not wake him then, they would rather he sleeps.

After all, his eating habits are much more regular — three meals a day most of the time — than his sleeping ones. Tim sleeps approximately the required amount, just not in one go. So if, or when, his friends have to pick, the choice is crystal clear. Especially after the hell of a day they had yesterday. And the days before that didn't help. They're all exhausted, of course they would leave Tim to sleep after everything, knowing all too well how messed up all their sleep schedule is lately (Tim's kinda always been, but everyone knows that). They have a more… typical resting pattern than him, but their hero activities prevent them from sleeping an ordinary amount really. Maybe they too have been sleeping for half the day. If one of them manages to actually rest a normal and healthy amount — or miraculously more — it's a common tacit agreement that nothing and no one should disturb them. And now that his mind isn't consumed by work, he realizes he's starving, his hunger sensors not blocked by his too focused brain anymore. He decides to finish up what he's doing quickly and then head to the kitchen, it shouldn't take him longer than fifteen minutes.

That's when he hears a knock at his door, and before he can ever register the sound or answer it, it opens. Kon appears, and when his ethereal cobalt eyes lock with Tim's, he smiles, soft and sunny. Tim's heart skips a beat and he prays to whatever god — deity, divinity, celestial being, whatever, he's not picky (he'll even take demons and devils if they feel like it) — will take pity on him and that Kon did not hear that. Or if he did, that he misinterpreted it somehow.

"Hey, heard you typing away, figured you'll be hungry. I managed to save you a portion from Cassie and Bart," he explains, and it almost messes up his heart's pace, again.

Tim's been awake for a while now, but his brain feels more sluggish than ever at the moment. It's not his fault he's been ignoring everything that wasn't relevant to his cases, including knowing how to act and be human. And now, Kon is there, in his room, bringing him food with a breathtaking smile because he knows Tim will need it, because he cares about his friends, he knows and he wants to be there for them. He's an angel, a godsend, no he's more than that, he's the kindest and most benevolent god that exists, and when Luthor created him, he did the only good thing he ever did in his life. Creating this amazing person was, is and will be the only good thing that bald asshole ever did (and sometimes, Tim thinks it's almost enough to forgive him for all the bad and evil, except he even had to fuck that up by hurting his friends and Kon, the only good that Lex Corp managed to do). Tim doesn't deserve such a great person, but the Super definitely deserves a thank you. So before the silence stretches for too long, Tim finally opens his mouth.

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver," he says, and he knows that Kon catches the multiple meanings, but the other just shrugs, so he adds. "Really. I don't know what I'll do without you."

They both know what he'll do without Kon. What will happen is that Tim will lose his sanity as well as his spleen, try to bring Kon back, mainly by cloning him — despite the fact that he knows the clone will never be Kon — maybe also by other means. It kind of proves his point but neither acknowledge it, they already talked about it before. There's no need to ruffle old wounds.

"Probably sleep even less and forget to eat more. Definitely fall less from buildings, or so I hope at least, since I won't be here to catch you."

"I have my grapple," Tim moves from his bed towards Kon and the plate he's still carrying, shrugging with an amused expression.

"'Cause that's gonna help when you fall from helicopters and airplanes," he rolls his eyes, moving to put the food on Tim's desk.

"You never said anything about those, just buildings," he smirks.

"You know what I mean, jerk," he grumbles but there's no animosity in his tone, and he can't help a small smile.

Tim chuckles and Kon sets the food on his desk, then lingers. Tim didn't think his best friend would come himself to bring him food. Barges into his room to haul him on his shoulder and then sits him at a table yes, he did it before and he would do it again without hesitation. But delivers food personally, no. That's so nice of him, and Tim's heart feels too full but his arms too empty. Thanks God for Kon. He doesn't know what he did to deserve a friend like him, he doesn't even know if he deserves him, but he's really glad he's part of his life.

(The murmurs tell him he doesn't, and the whispers tell him he does. Tim has decided to ignore both a long time ago. At least when he's not in his bed, when it's not night, when he's not alone.)

His friend's gaze is traveling across his room as if he's discovering new things, as if it's his first or second time in Tim's room. The gothamite wants to roll his eyes. The team had sleepovers in each of their rooms at least twice, even if they always ended up in the room with the huge screen. And Kon has joined Tim for some marathon movies that only the two of them care about, and brainstorming nights (not necessarily or actually nights but it felt right to call it that), and dozens of other stuff. He crashes in his room so much, it might as well be half his. And that's a dangerous line of thought, the idea of them sharing a place, a living space, a bedroom. He stops it there, because more will only do harm to his poor heart that's barely half the soldier Tim is. Still, he has no idea why Kon is lingering in his room. They don’t have any plans he can remember. Tim isn't against it, but the other doesn't have his own plate of food, and he doesn't think he makes for the best company when he's just eating.

"Thanks again dude, really," he says.

Kon only hums and doesn't move from his spot right by the desk, his sight locked on nothing in particular. It almost seems like he's avoiding Tim's eyes. No, he's definitely avoiding Tim's gaze. Okay, this is starting to get concerning. He's really grateful for Kon's goodwill and kindness, but this behavior isn't really like him. In fact, it reminds him of last night. He thinks that, maybe, the two are connected.

"Do you need something ? Not that I mind you staying, but surely you would rather do something else than just watch me eat. That sounds really boring actually," he watches Kon, his cheek and chin pressed against the palm of his hand, his elbow up on his desk, and perched on his chair with his feet off the floor.

Kon doesn't say that he wouldn't dislike watching Tim eat because it eases his mind, and also because Tim is cute. And maybe he has some fantasy of rubbing his finger where some food is stuck on his face and then eating it, a little smirk on his lips and maintaining eye contact the entire time to admire the blush spreading on Tim's cheek. Or maybe leaning in to lick directly the food away, preferably and hopefully right on the corner of his lips. If this goes the way he hopes, the way he wants, he might be able to do that rather sooner than later — or never. Kon doesn't fill the silence and Tim doesn't know what to do about it. So, he says the first thing that comes to his mind.

"If it's about last night, don't worry about it. We can drop the subject if it makes you too uncomfortable."

Kon snaps his head to Tim before he even gets to finish talking. His eyes are a bit wide, something that suspiciously looks like a small blush spreading on his cheeks. Tim thinks, very smartly, uh, what. This was the wrong thing to say. Now that he says it aloud, it wouldn't really make sense for Kon to stick around for that. It certainly isn't a fun conversation to have and Tim will never hold it against his friends if they don't want to take part in those. Not when he's the one who always slips away from them. That would be pretty hypocritical of him. His concern is still there, but the anger evaporated. He would like an explanation about his recent risky behavior, but if the other doesn't want to tell him presently, he'll drop it — for now, until the Super is ready to talk about it.

"Hum, it kinda is ?" He answers, rubbing at his neck.

Tim's not sure what to make of his reaction. The blush, the apparent nervousness, the hesitation in his tone. The only thing that he can figure out is that this topic makes him uncomfortable, but also and mainly embarrassed. Tim knows that he's smart, that he's a great detective — maybe even better than Batman according to some. He knows that he knows his friends, that he can read all their little quirks clearly, that he can communicate with them with barely a glance, and that it's the same about them with him. But right now, he has no idea what's going on in Kon's gorgeous head. He can only wonder why Kon flushed, even so slightly, because he doesn't think the conversation's topic is blush-worthy. The only logical conclusion is that he's really embarrassed about this. Which means the faster they're done with it, the better, then. So, bracing himself by taking a deep breath he hopes wasn't too obvious, Tim starts talking.

"Let me start by saying that I apologize for the way I… cornered you. I shouldn't have done that when we're all exhausted, I should've talked to you the day after. I mean, I was exhausted too and probably didn't make any sense, so I just wasted your resting time."

Kon's surprised, he certainly wasn't expecting that. He thought that when his friend opened his mouth, he would've told Kon that he was bothered, annoyed with him basically checking him out and mentally making out with him. But it looks like he didn't realize that it was what was going on in Kon's head. Just like yesterday, they seem to be on two different rhythms. His friend apologizing doesn't thwart his plan to confess though, on the contrary. If he can't kiss Tim in the next ten minutes, he might combust.

"I get it, I know how you get when you drink too much Red Bull," he shrugs, a small smile on his lips and Tim returns it.

Then, the shorter man tilts his head, "What did you want to talk about ?"

Kon feels his face heat, but valiantly manages to keep the blush down. He doesn't manage to look Tim in the eyes though. He's rubbing his neck again and Tim's expression turns confused. This is now or never, the Super thinks, this is why he came here. So he steels his nerves (he is the Boy of Steel and the sort of brother/son of the Man of Steel after all), takes a deep breath and looks Tim in the eyes- nope, bad idea. He averts his gaze again and opens his mouth.

"Well, it's not exactly about last night. I mean, it's related to what I want to say, but it's not just last night. It's, um… Rao, why is it so hard ?" He mutters the end, and Tim's perplexity grows at the same time as Kon's blush. "I thought I was prepared and all, but this is more difficult than I thought."

"If it's too hard for you, we can talk about it later."

Kon appreciates the kindness Tim is showing, especially since Tim likes to know everything, and even more when it's about the people he cares about. He knows that this isn't Tim dropping the subject but rather him making it easier for Kon. They will talk about this, but at a moment when Kon is more prepared, this is what this is.

But Kon is tired of waiting, of later, of maybe. He wants and he wants now. He readied himself and last night just proved to him that if he talked with Tim earlier, he may have been able to do all of the things he fantasized about, and sooner instead of never or too late. He wants to spend time with Tim just like they do as best friends, but he also wants to be able to kiss him, hold his hands, tugs him close. He wants to banter like they always do, but this time he wants it to end up in one of their beds. He wants to say 'I like you' — and maybe one day, 'I love you' — and hear Tim say it back, and the other way around. He wants all of that and more.

Of course he's scared to ruin his friendship with Tim, terrified in fact, but he knows that they went through enough that his confession wouldn't be the thing to put an end to it (he doesn’t think anything could put an end to it and he doesn’t want it to stop anyway, the contrary), even in the most horrible of the worst case scenarios. And in the best case, he wouldn't leave this room without knowing what Tim's lips feel like against his own. Hell, in the best case, he wouldn't leave this room at all. So, he looks Tim in the eyes this time, and the soft pale blue, the same as last night but so different at the same time, puts him in a trance. He feels his guts churn and his heart beats faster. He swallows, never letting his gaze leave the other's eyes.

"No, it's okay, I need to tell you this now," he admits in a soft voice.

Tim looks a bit taken aback by the intense stare but he doesn't look away. He nods, waiting for him to continue, uncertain where this conversation is heading. He's not sure he can talk without his voice cracking anyways, his mouth went dry when Kon's gaze buried in his own. His eyes are so blue, electric and alien, beautiful and enchanting. Tim can't help but be reminded of sirens whenever he's with Kon. After all, the blue of the ocean always looked better on him than the azure of the sky, in his opinion. He's always captivated by him, pulled towards him. His appearance, his voice, his demeanor replacing the calls and the songs of the mythical creatures, but just as much if not more entrancing, less deadly but just as engulfing and suffocating. His eyes even more, the beautiful uncanny blue draws him in instantly. The weight of his gaze is the only thing physically stopping him from moving closer and letting himself submerge completely into Kon. It's almost drowning, but sometimes Tim feels like he can only exist when those eyes are on him.

Once he looks at Tim, his gaze entirely focused on him and only him, seemingly forgetting about everything else, the Gothamite is captivated. The end of the world could happen at this very moment and he wouldn't even notice. His only thought would be that seeing Kon before his end is a blessing he'll carry to his grave, to his death and beyond. It would be that he's glad Kon was the one looking at him, so he could continue living in the irises of his eyes, engraving his memory and entire being into them. His eyes are so intense and so clear it seems to abduct Tim from reality, leaving him lost and at home in the blue of his eyes. He's not sure he's breathing anymore. His air, his life, his love extracted from him for Kon's pleasure, if he'll take them. And he realizes that maybe, he wouldn't mind it that much.

Kon is transfixed by the color of Tim's eyes, the icy hues, the darker ring at the outside of his iris. He sees the blue, almost gray, get swallowed by the black pupils and he can't help but feel the same. He feels grounded when those eyes are on him, when Tim really looks and watches him. When he takes his time to study Kon's face, the micro expression, any miniscule shifts, the new freckles that sprout from his hours spent under the sun. It used to unnerve him years ago, but now, somehow, it helps him. Somehow, the doubts are slowly quieted by a stronger voice, claiming that it's going to be okay, not because his best friend will be nice about the rejection, but because the attraction is mutual. So Kon confesses, his eyes locked onto Tim's, unable to look away even for a millisecond.

"I like you," he says, his tone less incertain than before. "As in, I have feelings for you. And I would really like to take you on a date, if you want to."

He sees Tim freezes, hears his heart beating faster. Their gazes are still locked on each other, and he watches as his eyes widen, as the red blooms across his cheeks. Tim opens and then closes his mouth, but no sound comes out. Kon likes to think he's patient, he's not Impulse after all. He's patient with Jon when he comes find him and rambles about his troubles. He's patient with Bart's hyperactivity and Cassie's teasing. And he's patient with Tim and his bottled feelings, because he lives with Batman, and the man and his kids are all stunned with their emotions and how to deal with them. So, since he's patient, he waits for his friend to collect himself and his wits. But he has to admit that the longer he waits, the louder the doubts become. Finally, the other makes a sound, even better, words forming a sentence.

"I- um, me too," his voice cracks and he clears his throat. "I mean, I have feelings for you too, and a date sounds amazing."

Kon smiles, soft, just a bit smaller than his usuals but so genuine, Tim thinks he's actually stupid for not confessing earlier. Not that he was the one to confess, that was all Kon and his braveness, but still. This should have happened earlier. But this happened. Holy shit this just happened. Tim curses at his genes as he blushes even more, but he can't help the grin blooming on his face, which ends up half hidden by his palm. He shifts a bit, his head turned down just slightly, but his eyes are still on Kon just like the Super's gaze is still locked on him. And Kon's hands are getting sweatier the more Tim looks at him like that. His face unguarded and his expression so loving, so reverent, the glint in his eyes mesmerizing. He hears a heart beating very fast and he doesn't know if it's his own or Tim's.

"Cool, great, awesome. Boyfriends," he says, gesticulating between them, not as a question, but as a statement. He could have said it in a smoother and less lame way, but he's too giddy. And judging by Tim's blushing and smiling face, he doesn't think the other mind that much, quite the contrary. "So, can I kiss you now ? Or do you want to, like, take it slow ? I totally get it if you do and all that, don't worry. I respe-"

Tim grabs his shirt and pulls him down. He stops him just a breath away from his mouth, his eyes looking into Kon's. The half-kryptonian breaks their eye contact to lock his sight on those beautiful and enticing lips, currently spreading in a smirk. Tim opens his mouth, but no sounds come out as Kon finally crashes their mouth together.

It's a bit messy at first, Kon putting too much force. He's been waiting for so long, and Tim's no better. But finally, they get used to it, to each other (not that Tim thinks he could ever get used to kissing Kon, not in a way that means he'll stop feeling fireworks or seeing sparks) and the kiss turns slow, longer, less desperate and softer. Time melts away, and Tim goes next. The gentle pressure, the plushness of Kon's lips on Tim's own chapped ones send a shiver down his back. Tim licks at his lips, savoring the sweet taste and the softness against his tongue. Kon opens his mouth and Tim's tongue enters, going over his teeth and lingering on his sharp canines. Tim had fantasies about them, especially when he smiles that bright grin of his, exceptionally when Kon bites his lip, and the majority of his daydreams revolves around those pearly and shiny teeth on him. Kon's taking his time, letting his tongue graze over every little spot in Tim's mouth, patiently, like he has all the time in the world. And maybe they do. Tim makes a sound in the back of his throat, swallowed immediately by Kon, and the other blissfully sighs.

Unfortunately, Tim realizes that, even if he can hold his breath longer than the average person thanks to his training, he's still very much human, and humans need air to live. So, he pulls back slowly, Kon's lips chasing his own. He presses his forehead to Kon's and he wonders when did he get up from his chair. Or when did Kon put his hands on his hips. Or when did he put his arms around Kon's neck. However, he does know when he closed his eyes, that happened at the same time the butterflies doubled in volume and in numbers.

"I've been wanting to do that for so long," he whispers, breathless.

He feels the puff of the air as Kon laughs, but when he opens his eyes, Kon has the same soft smile he has when he's truly happy. It's a mix between unbridled joy and pure awe, and somewhere in the blue and violet hues of his eyes, Tim thinks he can read bewilderment and something akin to vulnerability.

"Yeah, me too," he whispers back, a blush adorning his cheeks. Tim thinks that he looks so good like that, smiling and happy and flushed.

They stay a moment longer like that, basking in each other's presence, pressing gentle kisses here and there. Kon's hands seem to have found their home on Tim's hips and he's not complaining. His found themselves entangled in his soft and dark curls. His hair feels so soft, he's considering stopping making fun of him for his very long hair routine. Tim lets his mouth rest on the side of his neck, right next to a cluster of freckles, Kon's head buried in his hair.

"Now eat your food dude."

"Don't you dare call me dude when you just had your tongue almost down my throat, bro."

"Yeah, okay I see what you mean," Kon reddens and cringes. "Alright baby, sweetheart, sunshine, eat. You'll need energy for what's to come."

"Oh ?" Tim draws back just enough to look at his face, and he raises his eyebrow. "And what are we going to do ?" He lets his deadpan expression shift into a smirk, and Kon mirrors it.

"Whatever you feel like. Which includes nothing if you want to do nothing," he adds the last sentence hurriedly, just in case he's moving too fast for Tim's liking. He really does not want to mess it up, he really doesn't want to scare Tim off, not now, even if he knows it'll take a lot more than that.

"And what if I want to do something ?" He asks, with a dangerous glint in his eyes, one Kon thinks he'll get addicted to too soon.

Kon grins, just as fierce as the look in Tim's eyes. "Then you really should eat."

And even if he's saying that, he's leaning in as Tim laughs, bright and happy.