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Chapter Text

It was new in a sort of way that felt cold and dark and damning. He didn’t know these people – not really, anyways – but as a Robin-clad Tim watched the light filter through the fluorescents and illuminate the faces of his teammates, he thought that maybe it was the closest thing to a home he’d ever had. 

In the grand scheme of things, Tim hadn’t known them long at all. This month, they’d be coming up on a year and a half. But they were close; that’s the sort of thing that happens when all you do is fight for your life. Trauma bonding, maybe.

They had their jokes, at least. Who were Superboy and Impulse without a jab tied into every sentence? They all played their role. Robin would sit playfully annoyed and Wonder Girl would egg them on and Tim wouldn’t change it for the world. 

It was how they kept themselves sane, Tim sometimes thought. Because it’s easy to lose yourself when it’s in your job description to play a part, and also that part is in constant mortal danger. They joked, because that was all they had.

Tim tried not to let it bother him that he didn’t know who his teammates were, under their masks. It was how things had to be, and Tim knew there was no way around it. They did it for their safety (and his own). But they were his best friends, and he still didn’t know them. 

They didn’t know him. 

And, well. Them knowing him as strictly “Robin” made situations like this all the more difficult.  

“Look, I’m not saying that he doesn’t do stuff to help the city. And, I know Gotham needs it, but Bruce Wayne should not have that much money!” Kon called out lazily from the couch. 

“Fine, maybe. But man, don’t you wish you could have that kind of life? I mean, even for a day. That guy’s living the dream,” Impulse countered from a corner of the room. 

The conversation had brewed as a result of Bruce Wayne starring on the cover of the Daily Planet’s newest issue (Tim wasn’t sure where Kon had gotten the magazine, but the conversation was much too far gone for him to inquire about that now). The man had made it to the number one spot on Gotham’s 40 under 40 list, for what was probably the twelfth year in a row, and the country was obsessed. Again. Really, Tim didn’t understand it. 

But this meant Tim would be in the limelight, too, as he so often was now. 

Which should have been fine. Except it wasn’t. 

Because the thing was, it made everything harder. It was difficult enough to live a double life in front of his friends and teammates, but both of his personas were subject to public view, and Tim was swamped. He hated it.  

Bruce told him it was easier. Something about hiding in plain sight. (Robin had begrudgingly argued that he only felt that way because he’d never known any difference — the Bat had not taken kindly to this retort.) 

He’d accepted it, more or less, as a necessary evil. Tim saved lives in exchange for his own, and that was how it had to be. 

Except, right now, he was trapped, and he knew it was only a matter of time before-

“I think he’s a good guy, though. I know you’ve seen all those kids he’s taken in over the years,” Wonder Girl interjected.  

The conversation was getting dangerous. Robin would have to walk through his precisely crafted minefield if he had any intention of escaping. He’d had practice, of course – making sure his face showed no revealing reactions under the mask, keeping his heartbeat at an even pace, continuing the rate of his breathing. Calm. No one would know. 

This last comment drew a smirk out of Impulse. “Oh, yeah. Trust me, I’ve seen the kids. That Dick Grayson guy, isn’t he supposed to be some sort of sex god? I’ve heard what all those people say.”

Tim was overcome with an urge to defend his… brother? (the thought was still difficult for Tim to wrap his head around. It felt weird, sort of slippery inside his mind. Wrong.) Either way, Dick being referred to with such obscenities was horrifying, because Tim knew that wasn’t him. People made things up and Dick had to suffer the consequences and why couldn’t everyone just shut up about his family’s personal life? 

Not that he could say that, obviously. It would draw suspicion. He remained silently in his seat.

Wonder Girl wrinkled her nose. “I mean, I guess. You know who’s kinda handsome, though? The new kid he picked up. Tim Drake, I think his name is.”

Tim felt the world collapse in on itself. This was so not happening. He could not sit here while his friends discussed his attractiveness. Clearly, though, he didn’t have much choice in the matter. 

“Yeah, sure. He’s hot, maybe,” Superboy huffed from the couch. Tim was struck with nausea. “But he’s probably just some stuck up asshole. They always are.” 

And okay, he knew this wasn’t the part he should be focusing on, But.

Superboy said Tim Drake was hot. 

That certainly gave him something to think about. 

Actually, no. Scratch that. Tim did not want to think about this, at all. Kon was stuck up and entitled and Robin couldn’t care less what he hell he thought. It didn’t matter, and none of them even knew he was actually Tim Drake anyways so he was overthinking this and he should just stop while he was ahead because- 

Yeah. Not thinking about this anymore. Right. 

Except it was already too late. Tim cursed himself for actually looking engaged during his minor breakdown, and cursed Impulse for noticing, because it resulted in the one thing he didn’t want. 

“Ooh, looks like Rob’s invested now. You’re a Gothamite, yeah? How does it feel living in a city with the world’s hottest billionaires?”

It was over for him. Tim was tempted to throw in the towel right then, maybe shout out a loud “I do not want to judge the attractiveness of my own siblings!" and leave them with questions he knew he shouldn’t answer. But defeat meant a long and wildly humiliating conversation with Batman, probably involving a lot of yelling and three weeks worth of lectures. 

So he played it off with a snort and a dismissive “Sure. They’re fine, I guess. The Waynes actually do a lot to help the city, but I can’t speak much to their personalities. I’ve never met them.” Tim prayed that they wouldn’t notice him lying through gritted teeth, that it would be enough for them to drop it and move on. 

It wasn’t, of course. That would have been way too easy. The universe really couldn’t let him have anything, huh? 

Naturally, Wonder Girl found this absolutely hilarious. “Okay, bird boy. Sure. Whatever you say.” 

Casual. Keep it casual, Tim chanted in his mind. He was just joking with his friends. “Well, you don’t exactly see the rich and famous parading around at night. That’s not safe for anyone, let alone those with their faces plastered on magazine covers.” The irony of the statement was not lost on him.  

“Still, though, it’s weird. Bruce Wayne and Batman seem to have similar enough interests. They both want to protect the city, even if Gotham is a lost cause. You’d think they would have interacted at least once, right?” Superboy interrogated. 

Robin gave an icy shrug. “You know Batman. He keeps to himself.” But the underlying message was clear enough: drop it. 

Impulse picked up on his tone, but in true Impulse fashion, he elected to ignore it. 

“What, you got some secret beef with the Wayne family? They make you sign an NDA?” Oh, if only he knew. Actually, maybe an NDA would be a better arrangement than whatever the hell he’d gotten himself into.

But Robin didn’t dignify him with a response.

The universe picked that second to take pity on him, after putting Tim through such agony. A gentle vibration rocked through his mask, alerting him to the voice in his ear. Nightwing. 

“Hey, Robin? You copy?” 

Bless Dick. Really. Tim turned away from the others, making his way to the doorway of the room and exiting into the hall. “I’m here. What’s up? Everything okay back at the Cave?” 

Dick’s bright, ever-present smile was radiating through the earpiece. “Yep! Just, I need a second set of eyes to look at a new case we were given. Figured you could help out, if you weren’t too busy.”

Tim had never been happier at the prospect of more work. “Yeah. I’m with the team right now, but I can be right there. Consider me on my way.”

“Oh! If you’re with the team, then don’t-”

But Dick was cut off by Tim’s enthusiastic rejection. “Nope. On my way.” Anything to get him out of here. 

As he made his way back into the room, Robin gave a quick “Sorry, guys. I’m needed back at the Cave.” Not that it was necessary – he was sure Superboy had been eavesdropping on the whole thing (curse his super hearing) – but it was courteous. Tim had been raised with manners, at least. 

Wonder Girl quirked an eyebrow. “Wow, how awfully convenient for you. Running off just as we’re getting to the good part. Nice move, Robin.” But she let him leave all the same, and Tim was out the door in seconds.  

The mountain faded into the skyline behind him, and he was the closest he’d ever get to being free. Those few minutes of the journey nestled between the mountainous cavern and the Bat Cave were always transformative. He was neither Tim nor Robin, and none of it mattered. The boy relished in it. It wasn’t very often he got the chance to be alone.

It wasn’t very often he got the chance to choose for himself who he wanted to be. 

It also gave him time to think, though. About things that weren’t directly related to his work. It gave him time to think about Kon’s reaction to the earlier conversation.

He thought Tim was a stuck up asshole, but he also thought the boy was hot. 

He wasn’t sure why he was even contemplating this. Wonder Girl had said essentially the same thing. But the irony didn’t register with Robin (or rather, he refused to acknowledge that it did). The thought made Tim warm, spawning a vague sort of discomfort that he couldn’t quite place. Probably just anxiety surrounding his true identity and fear that his teammates were getting closer to uncovering it. 

Wasn’t he not supposed to be thinking about this?

Yep. Anyways.

But the thought worked into something deeper, closer to paranoia. Because really, they could have figured out who he was today. Maybe he was too obvious. Had his heart beat stayed even enough? Superboy could tell if it hadn’t. Even he would banter with Impulse sometimes — maybe he’d been too cold today? Could they know? Did they know? 

It unsettled him, suddenly, that he didn’t know much about them. He’d refrained from searching them up — he knew it would be an invasion of privacy. And, still, it wasn’t safe to be running around with people he didn’t know. They’d been teammates for a while now, but could he really trust them? He tried to justify his discomfort. 

Tim didn’t want to doubt his friends, but he had a detective’s instinct, through and through. That much would never change. 

Soon enough, he arrived back at the manor, making his way down to the basement and hearing the hidden door clicking shut behind him. 

The Bat Cave was wildly different from the cavernous halls of the Young Justice lair – though cave was a loose description for both. The technology scribed into the walls was much more than should have been anticipated, for one thing. And, of course, there was the part about them both being home to mastermind vigilante teams. 

But the Bat Cave came with expectations. Rather than him being able to escape and live blissfully as neither Tim nor Robin in the few moments of his journey, the boy was expected to be both. Pristine and ready to pounce at the drop of a hat. Manicured and proper and abashedly prepared to fuck someone up, if it came down to it. The balance was a paradox. 

It was an unwelcome shift. 

This, along with the sheer frustration of Tim’s previous matters of the evening, were written across Tim’s face as he made his way down the winding steps. 

“Hey!” a man called from in front of the Bat Computer. His voice was deep with exhaustion in a way Tim hadn’t recognized over the call. “You okay? It looks like you’re about to collapse.” 

Tim snorted at this. “Says you. Take off that mask, Nightwing. Let’s see those eye bags.” 

Dick curled his lip in lieu of a response, then pulled up the file of the case that had been losing him sleep. It was another serial killer. Didn't Gotham have enough of those already?

The two worked in a vaguely comfortable silence, one they’d grown accustomed to. It had taken time. But the evidence led them in a circle, yet again, and before long Tim was sprawled on the rough concrete of the ground, willing a pillow to appear under his head. 

It wasn’t like he’d be able to sleep anyways. The anxiety of earlier was beginning to creep back in, flooding the corners of his mind. He couldn’t bury himself in work forever (though he’d be willing to try it). 

The elder must have noticed something shift in Tim’s demeanor, because he broke the silence: “Troubles with your team?”

Robin shrugged helplessly. “I mean, not really. I guess.” Except, Dick had been in situations like this too. So, maybe… “How did you handle working with people and not knowing their identities? Like, under the mask.” 

Dick shook his head shamefully, the distaste of a memory working its way onto his face. “I wish I could say that I did.” 

“You- What?” Tim quirked an eyebrow at him. 

“I hated not knowing. Information like that had never been kept from me before. I thought I had a right to it, a right to know who they were.” 

Tim mouthed an “Oh,” turning towards the man. “How’d they react?”

He hesitated. “There’s consequences to what you do, sometimes. Trust is something you have to earn, Tim. And then you have to keep earning it every day until you die. Those bonds are easily broken. I didn’t realize that at the time.” 

Robin hung his head. “So that’s a no on..." 

Dick’s expression was stern. “I can’t tell you what to do, but trust me — it’s not worth it.” 

Maybe this should have helped, but knowing that Dick had fallen to the pressure too didn’t do much to quell his worries. “Is it really that hard to deal?”

A smile found its way back into Dick’s eyes. “You’re a strong kid. You can manage.” 

Chapter Text

Tim Drake was, for the most part, a serious person. 

He lived his life through sets of rules. Thorough tabs lined his brain, detailing virtually any experience he could need. Tim did what he was told. He followed orders. He had principles. 

But by god was he tempted to abandon those principles right about now. 

Gotham was far from boring; most nights, the city was alive well into the night, living and breathing alongside its residents. 

Nothing particular had happened, except that was the problem. It was unnaturally quiet, in a way that made Red Robin’s skin crawl. It was wrong. 

Maybe something big was happening. Or maybe the villains had given up and converted their lives of crime to those devoted to charity. 

Ha. As if. 

He was used to action — preventing fights from starting, breaking up fights, finishing fights. Electricity coursed through his veins, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

But he didn’t exactly have anything to do, now. That energy was going nowhere. 

Tim had vowed to stay alert, earlier in the night. He couldn’t risk something happening while he was zoned out. Gotham was his responsibility; he owed it to the people. But that, of course, had been hours ago. Not a single criminal thing had happened since then. Besides leaping lazily from rooftop to rooftop, Tim had nothing to do. For the first time in Red Robin’s entire career, he was bored on patrol. 

He scanned the area, and then scanned it again, and then again. Nothing. Not even a petty theft or a carjacking. The streets were silent. 

Until Tim saw movement in an alley a few blocks away. His head snapped up. Finally. 

Weaving his way through the buildings, Red Robin crept up on the figure. Maybe this was what he’d been waiting for. Maybe the guy was headed to some criminal headquarters and Tim could break in and finally get some action. 

Except…

Tim got a closer look. 

Except it was a boy. Around Tim’s age.

He sauntered down the dark corridor. The boy was by himself, yet he didn’t seem scared. Aside from the occasional glance over his shoulder, he strutted along at a casual pace.

Perhaps a seasoned local? But if anything, that should’ve been more of a deterrent. No one was safe from the city’s wrath — Tim himself was proof of that.

Red Robin thought about leaving the boy be. Clearly he wasn’t concerned… Maybe Tim shouldn’t be either? 

But also, it was nearing three in the morning, and anyone walking alone in Gotham City must have a death wish. 

Maybe Tim had a death wish too. He decided to follow. 

He trailed far behind at first, prowling on top of the building as the boy continued to walk. But Red Robin gained confidence as time wore on, trailing closer and closer to the boy.

He thought, for a second, how it might look. He was stalking (Gathering evidence, his mind supplied. Not stalking) some random teenager throughout the streets of Gotham. Just because he had nothing to do. (No, that’s not the reason. Maybe he’s a threat. You can never be too careful.)

So Red Robin took another step forward, just as the other boy stopped in his tracks. 

“I can hear you!” 

The voice rippled through the silence. Was he talking to Tim? But there was no way. Red Robin had been silent. He was sure of it! 

“Up on the roof. I know you’re there!” 

Tim certainly would have picked up on someone else sharing the rooftops. 

An eyeroll was palpable in the boy’s voice as he called out again. “Just come down here. It’s not like I have a gun on me.” 

That did, in fact, sound like something he would say if he had a gun on him. But Red Robin had already been daring tonight — it was time to face the consequences. 

Red Robin scaled down the wall, careful to keep his distance, but he made his way towards the boy. 

With his feet planted on the ground, it was easier to get a steady look at him. His eyes were narrowed in distrust, but still bright and soft. Tim could immediately tell that he wasn’t really a threat, but still got the uncomfortable sense that the boy could really do some damage, given the opportunity. His tan skin was illuminated by the floodlit alley, as if he were almost glowing. Dark hair was swept to the side of his face. 

As he looked up, a flash of something unfamiliar flickered through the boy’s eyes, but he masked it again just as quickly. 

Red Robin couldn’t tell if seeing him made the other boy ease up or tense more. Either way, a silence blanketed the space between them.

Tim cleared his throat. “What do you want?” 

“Uh, excuse me?” The boy questioned. “You were following me. I should be asking you that.” 

Tim couldn’t argue with that one.

He thought the boy might leave it at that, then continue on with a vague threat of some sort. That would make sense. But that wasn’t what happened. 

Instead, he just kept… staring. Like he wasn’t sure what to do next. He opened his mouth to speak, before pausing and shutting it again. 

“Well?” Red Robin prompted, because what was this guy’s problem? 

As he waited for a response, Tim eyed the man again. Something struck him as uncomfortably familiar. His instinct was itching, sending frantic signals to his brain that Tim couldn’t read. 

“Sorry. Just- you got more you’re gonna say?” The boy was growing uneasy. 

Maybe it was something in his face. Red Robin had rescued half of the city at one point or another; maybe this was another past victim of Gotham’s crime scene. But that wouldn't make sense, with how carelessly he now walked the streets. 

“Why?” Red Robin took a step closer. “Want me to warn you about the dangers of Gotham? You should know that by now. Everyone does.”

Was it his hair? Maybe — the dark waves brushed to the side of his face felt painfully similar to a particular style Tim had seen before, but he couldn’t place it.

“No. Trust me, I know it well. Never mind.”

It was definitely the voice. Tim had heard this voice. He knew it. 

Wait. 

Was this…?

”Conner,” the boy said, raising his hand. “That’s my name, by the way. Conner Kent. Nice to meet you, Red Robin.” 

It made way too much sense. The hair, the voice, and even the outfit (which Tim now noticed consisted of jeans, a distressed T-shirt and leather jacket) all perfectly fit the bill. 

Tim stared. Then, in a moment of dumbfounded idiocracy: “How do you know my name?” Because it couldn’t be true. No way. Maybe the lack of action tonight had him losing it.

Except Tim would understand how then “Conner” could hear him all the way up on the rooftop. Superboy had those powers. 

So-called Conner raised a brow. “This suit of yours isn’t very inconspicuous. It’s kinda plastered right on your chest.” The next part was muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Tim to hear (though he wasn’t sure if that was intentional or not). “I mean, that suit leaves very little to the imagination. Not that I’m complaining.” 

And Tim…

Wasn’t exactly sure what to do with that. 

Red Robin was a lot of things, but flirtatious was not one of them. Sure, he’d picked things up over the years. Living with infamous socialites will do that to you. Or maybe he was born with it — maybe the billionaire and playboy DNA were one and the same. But his Tim Drake charm seemed to evaporate the second he donned the suit. 

Probably because he was too focused on keeping the streets of Gotham safe to actually think about that sort of thing.

Plus, it’s not like it would do him any good. People talking about Tim Drake was one thing, but the thought of a Red Robin scandal making its way back to Batman was utterly humiliating. He was supposed to be mysterious. 

In other words, he could not flirt on the job. He had to leave the eligible bachelor act up to his non-super counterpart. 

But wasn’t flirting just joking? Just banter?

Sometimes he thought he’d regained his ability to joke after his team disbanded, even if it had been just a few months. Bonds like that don’t ever disappear, but they can evolve. Him and Impulse and Wonder Girl and Superboy no longer faced death together on the daily, so Red Robin no longer had to play the cynic all the time. Something had clicked into place. He could laugh and tease and it didn’t tear him apart. 

No, banter wasn’t against his rules.

This comment, either way, had a blush crawling all the way down to Tim’s neck in a way he prayed wasn’t visible through his suit. He had to counter attack.

His heart shuddered a few times, before he realized that 1. Conner could definitely tell (super hearing and all) and 2. They’d never joked like this before. 

Except, that had to be what this was, right? Kon knew Red Robin was smart, so he had to know that the boy would pick up on it. He knew that Tim would get the joke and run with it. Maybe. 

Though… He wouldn’t give his identity away that easily, would he? The Superboy Tim knew would hold on to whatever plausible deniability was left. Even with Red Robin. Especially with Red Robin. 

So then, the alternative… 

Okay. Tim could play this game. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

Superboy – Conner, Tim reminded himself – jerked his head up, as if he’d forgotten that the other was still there. But once he caught light of the amused smirk tugging at Red Robin’s lips, his shoulders fell. 

“I think you heard me loud and clear.” His voice was deep and testing.  

Tim’s mind kept trying to find distinctions between Conner and Superboy. There were none, of course; the two were the same. Tim couldn’t deny it. From their mannerisms to their voices and intonations to even the clothes they wore, the two were identical. 

“Maybe I did, then. So, Conner,” Tim continued, emphasizing the name. “What brings you out at this time of night? You’re not exactly one of our regular crime bosses. ” 

“Oh! Nah, I’m just on my way out to visit a friend,” Conner says, as if it were broad daylight and they were meeting inside a coffee shop, rather than a dark alley at the witching hour. 

“So you’re coming to see one of the crime bosses. Got it.” 

“Wha- No!” Conner’s rejection of the idea echoed down the street, bouncing back and forth between the brick walls. “No, I’m not. Promise. My friend is a bit of a night owl. He won’t mind the time.” 

“Yeah, I’m going to be honest. It really sounds like your describing a crime boss right now.” 

Tim watched another look of hesitation pass over Conner’s face before replacing itself with resolve. “Is that what you’re hoping for? So you have a chance to trail behind me for a few more blocks? Trust me, I know, the view is great.”

Something told him that Conner wasn’t just talking about the view from the rooftops, and that brought the world to a standstill. 

This was definitely flirting.

He was vaguely aware of the fact that Superboy could hear every single time Red Robin’s heart pounded against his chest, but he was too deep in his own mind to care. 

Tim had sometimes wondered how Kon constantly had girls fawning over him. The boy had always been attractive – even Red Robin could begrudgingly admit it – but aside from that, he’d never really seemed to have any other charm. 

Well, Tim could definitely see the charm now. Being on the receiving end of the pickup lines was brutal. How could anyone not fall for it?

Wait.

What was Tim thinking? The jokes – bad ones, at that – were not working on him. They couldn’t. This was Kon-El, Superboy, his best friend, the man he’d known for years. Tim was not going to fall victim to whatever slop Conner tried to pull on him. They were jokes. They were joking, because they were best friends and that is what best friends did. Nothing else. 

Yes. Perfect. Fine. Tim felt great about this. 

Conner wanted to play dirty? So be it. 

Red Robin shrugged at the boy’s remark, feigning defeat. “Fine. You caught me.” It was bold. He was bold. He would most definitely regret this in the morning – or much sooner. 

Superboy didn’t react fast enough, even though Tim knew he very well could. Which meant he was either entirely blindsided by Red Robin’s dive, or he let himself get pinned back. 

Tim tried not to think about the implications. 

In less than a second, Conner’s body was splayed against the wall, pinned by his wrists above his head and boxed in on one side by Tim’s knee. Conner wasn’t resisting, not even a little bit. That, however, may have been because an average man, as he was pretending to be, had no shot of breaking free from Red Robin’s constraints. 

“What-” Superboy choked as his back slammed against the wall. “What are you doing?” 

Red Robin gave a look that seemed much more confident than he felt. What was he doing? “I’m just protecting the streets of Gotham.” 

Tim definitely should not be enjoying this as much as he was. Something about Kon under him like this sent a shiver down his spine. He tried not to think too hard about it. That was a later him problem. 

He leaned in closer, lips nearly brushing the edge of Superboy’s ear, breath hot on his neck. “I’m doing my job. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Now they were close enough for Tim to hear the boy’s heartbeat, a nice change of pace. It was pulsing madly. This knowledge brought Tim the slightest bit of solace. 

Tim couldn’t flirt. But weirdly sensual violence? That he could do. 

And then he broke it off just as quickly as he’d started it, the only evidence of the act Conner's heavy breathing. Wild eyes looked over Red Robin once, as if in shock. 

He’d done his job, alright. 

Conner recovered quickly enough, but he was clearly still flustered. Tim could see right through his nonchalant act — he’d known the man for years. He knew well enough when his confidence was feigned. 

“Uh, yeah. Wow. Keeping our streets safe,” Conner stuttered out. “Anyways, I should be heading back home-”

Red Robin cut him off. “Oh yeah? I thought you were dead set on seeing that friend of yours.”

Tim was stuck. Did Superboy know that he knew? Because if he did, this would be hilariously dumb. If he didn’t, Red Robin looked insane. 

Either way, this was a side of Tim that Kon had never seen before. 

Conner faltered. “Uh… you know what, you were right. No crime bosses tonight.” Maybe it would’ve been funny, if his voice hadn’t cracked midway through the phrase. “But anyways, yeah. I think I’ll be, ah, heading back home.” And then, with a stroke of confidence: “Have fun patrolling the streets, Rob.” 

He had to know. Because no one else had ever called him Rob before – not like that. 

Tim’s feet stayed planted on the rough gravel beneath him, as Conner sauntered off, and eventually turned the corner onto the main road. Maybe he should’ve followed; if it had been any normal person, he would have. But this was Superboy, and Tim had a sneaking suspicion that he’d be able to hold his own, should the need arise. 

And then Tim was alone. 

The gravity of what he’d done came crashing down. 

He had just figured out Superboy’s secret identity. And then he had pinned that secret identity against a wall. 

He had pinned Superboy against a wall. 

Maybe he should have been able to laugh it off. They’d known each other for years, now; this was the sort of thing that friends did sometimes. As a joke. 

Except none of it felt like a joke. It had been real, and the heat of the moment had gotten to them both. Tim knew Conner couldn’t fake the way his heart shuddered at Red Robin’s touch. At least that part had been real. And maybe… 

Maybe he didn’t like the idea of it being a joke. 

Tim absolutely detested the warmth that grew in his chest at the thought.

No. He could not do this. He could not be feeing this way towards Conner. His best friend just trusted him with his true identity, and Tim was feeling very platonic fondness. That was all.  

And then what had he done? Pinned Conner against a wall. Great job.

If there was one thing Tim hadn’t learned during all his training, it was a single lick about emotions. That wasn’t Bruce’s forte, and he’d known that all along. But the life of a vigilante was a treacherous one, romantic endeavors and all. 

He needed guidance. He needed Stephanie.