Work Text:
“Wha’s in ma mouth?”
Kon adjusts his grip automatically, tightening his arm around Tim’s shoulders before he even realizes he’s doing it. Tim has gone slack against him again, forehead pressed somewhere near Kon’s collarbone, weight trusting and uncoordinated in a way that makes Kon acutely aware of every step he takes.
“It’s gauze,” Kon says, steady. “From your surgery.”
“Oh.” Tim pauses, then adds, quieter, “Didn’ put it there.”
“Nope. Doctors did.” Kon hums, popping the "p" while juggling Tim and fumbling with the keys to unlock Tim's apartment door.
Tim seems to accept this explanation without issue. He hums softly, the sound vibrating against Kon’s chest, and shifts closer, one hand fisting in the front of Kon’s jacket like an anchor.
Kon kicks the door open with his foot and ushers them inside. The apartment has a faint smell of laundry detergent, mixed with whatever cleaner Kon hurriedly used that morning to make the place look presentable before bringing Tim home. Since moving out to live on his own, Tim hasn't had anyone like Alfred to help keep things tidy. His apartment tends to get as messy as you might expect from a teenage boy. On any other day, if Kon pointed this out, Tim would huff and insist that it was just an "organized mess." Kon nudges the door shut behind them, locks it, and then gently guides Tim toward the couch.
“Okay,” Kon murmurs. “Let’s get you sittin’.”
Tim lets out a small, indignant noise as he feels himself being maneuvered, but he surrenders to the pull of the couch. He sinks into the cushions as if a weight of gravity has suddenly increased. Kon swiftly grabs the blanket draped over the back of the couch, shaking it out with a quick flick of his wrist. He strides over to Tim, then gently drapes the soft fabric over him, carefully tucking it around his shoulders and legs. As he secures the blanket at Tim’s feet, Kon notices the faint shiver that runs through him. With a soft smile, he adjusts the blanket so it completely envelops Tim, ensuring he’s warm and comfortable.
Tim watches him with heavy-lidded eyes, tracking each movement with intense concentration.
“Y’ bundlin’ me,” Tim observes.
“You had your wisdom teeth yanked out,” Kon says. “Bundling is mandatory.”
Tim considers this. “Fair.”
He immediately leans sideways, his forehead bumping into Kon’s ribs. Kon stills; Tim wasn't exactly the "hold me" type, of course- unless he had alcohol in his system. Drugs. Alcohol. Not the same thing, but close enough in effect, Kon shrugs. He carefully sits beside him, gentle enough that Tim doesn't suddenly realize what he's doing and bolts away like a startled cat, and close enough that Tim doesn’t have to adjust much to curl back in.
Tim sighs, long and pleased. “Y’ warm.”
“You’re drugged,” Kon leans forward to grab the TV remote from the coffee table.
Tim's hand shoots up from beneath his blanket cocoon, catching Kon's arm, clumsy yet insistent. His brows are furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line. “Don’ go.”
"I’m not," Kon says, leaning back into the couch as he uses his TTK to grab the TV remote. He clicks it on, keeping the volume low. "I’m right here," he adds, letting his arm settle around Tim's shoulders.
Tim sinks deeper against Kon, his cheek pressed comfortably into Kon's chest as he lets go of the day's stress. With each steady heartbeat beneath him, Tim feels his breathing slow and relax.
Kon glances down at Tim, his gaze lingering on the familiar crease between his brows that refuses to fully fade away, even in moments like this. It’s a little reminder of the tension Tim carries. Without even thinking, Kon reaches up and lightly brushes his thumb over that crease, hoping to smooth it out as if it could erase some of Tim's unease.
A few seconds pass.
Then Tim murmurs, “Y’ smell nice.”
Kon huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah?”
“Mhm,” Tim says. “S’ nice. Like...”
Something warm twists low in Kon’s chest. He patiently waits for Tim to finish his train of thought, but after 5 minutes of silence, he clears his throat. “You smell like antiseptic.”
Tim wrinkles his nose. “Dude.”
They sit quietly for a while, the TV murmuring softly in the background. Kon lets the time pass, counting it by Tim’s slow blinks and the gradual slump of his weight.
Eventually, Tim shifts, frowning slightly. “M’ mouth feels weird.”
“It’s gonna for a bit,” Kon says. “You wanna sip some water?”
Tim nods, slow and serious. Kon reaches for the glass on the coffee table with his TTK and helps guide it to Tim’s lips, steadying it until Tim swallows carefully.
“Good,” Kon murmurs. “Nice and easy.”
Tim relaxes again, gaze drifting. “Y’ good at this.”
“At what?”
Tim shrugs, or tries to. “Takin’ care’a me.”
Kon swallows. “Someone’s gotta.”
Tim hums, apparently pleased with that answer. His hand slides up, clumsy fingers brushing Kon’s jaw before settling there like he’s checking to make sure Kon is still real.
“Don’ leave,” Tim says again, softer this time.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Kon promises.
Tim nods, feeling satisfied, and then closes his eyes. Kon allows Tim to fall asleep against him in this position. Although it may not be the most comfortable over a long period, Kon is grateful for his Kryptonian genes, which prevent his limbs from going numb. Tim isn't exactly heavy, but any heavy head would leave anyone's arms pins and needles. Kon hums, pleased with himself as he settles back in the cushions.
The timer on Kon’s phone goes off several hours later. It’s dark outside now, the sound of Gotham’s active night humming faintly through the cracked-open window. Tim startles with a small sound, blinking blearily.
“Hey,” Kon says quickly. “You’re okay. It’s just time for your meds, and we need to change your gauze.” When Tim snoozed, Kon quietly swapped out the gauze, being careful not to disturb him. He knows how important this rest is for Tim, especially since the sober version of Tim never takes it easy. Tim normally pushes himself to stay awake 20 to 30 hours at a time, sometimes pushing it further if a case warrants it. Kon is set on making the most of this moment.
Tim frowns.
“You’re doin’ great, though, dude.”
Kon helps him sit up just enough to take the pill, guiding the water carefully and watching Tim closely. Once it’s done, Tim immediately slumps back against him, feeling utterly boneless.
“Proud’a you,” Kon murmurs, pressing a kiss into Tim’s hair before he can stop himself.
Tim sighs. “Can I have… more blanket?”
Kon smiles and tugs the blanket higher, then shifts so Tim can curl fully against him. Tim burrows closer, forehead tucked under Kon’s chin, breathing slow and even.
As the minutes slip by, the TV hums quietly in the background, casting a warm glow that fills the room. Kon rests his cheek against Tim’s head. He absently runs his fingers through Tim’s hair.