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Chapter 1 - The Next Time I Saw You Was In Your Apartment
Tim Drake was a goblin. And a bit of a kleptomaniac.
He hardly ever slept (really only did when Kon forced him under a heated blanket and put a movie on, or Alfred gave him a special tea laced with enough narcotics to tranquilize a small horse), sits at a desk all day, knees tucked under his chin in a terrible posture, and drinks enough caffeine to power all of Gotham. So, he was a bit of a goblin.
Something Kon learned after joining the Titans (and when he used to crash in the Wayne Manor while Tim still lived there, after Clark and Bruce started their… thing) was that Tim is a thief. One day, Bart’s pillow went missing. It was a weird thing to misplace.
“Are you sure you didn’t bring it to Dick and Wally’s?” Cassie asked, tipping the couch on its side to look for the pillow.
“I called and asked, it wasn’t there,” Bart pouted.
Then, Cassie’s fluffy robe went missing.
“It’s probably where Bart’s pillow is,” Kon joked, earning a dead-pan look from Cassie.
Lastly, Kon’s heated blanket went missing. Technically, he didn’t need a heated blanket. Ma Kent had given it to him as a Christmas present, and Kon found he really liked how it relaxed his muscles. Plus, there was just something nice about curling up under a heated blanket and watching the weather from his room in the Tower, especially when it stormed.
He wasn’t upset about it; in fact, Kon kind of forgot about his missing blanket. Until one day, he walked into Tim’s room to ask about a mission they were going on. Tim was gone, but Bart’s pillow was tucked between the open space where Tim’s mattress and wall didn’t touch. And on his bed, Kon’s heated blanket!
It was kind of sweet, really. Of course Kon’s heart did all sorts of flips and tricks when he realized Tim used his heated blanket on rare occasions when he slept. He was about to leave the room and not mention anything, but of course Bart had to come and be nosy. Noticing the open door, he strode into Tim’s room, mouth open to start talking Kon’s ear off, when his eyes honed in on his pillow.
Then, Cassie overheard the commotion and burst into Tim’s room, understanding the yelling between Bart and Kon. Tim barrelled around the corner at that moment, blinking sleepily, still in his Robin suit, hair disheveled. Over the Robin uniform was Cassie’s fluffy robe.
“Hey! My robe!” She said, reaching to pull it off of him. Tim stepped back quickly.
“And my pillow! I haven’t had good sleep in weeks, man!” Bart said, pointing an accusational finger.
Tim looked at Kon, waiting for him to mention the blanket. His cheeks were pink. It was cute.
“It’s like you’re nesting.”
To this day, Kon didn’t know where those four throwing stars came from. But he’s never been more glad to be indestructible. Cassie never got her robe back, instead a blue one in its place, and Bart noticed he had his original pillow back, but the back-up he was using was gone. Kon never asked for his blanket back, but a new one sat folded on his bed. And now that he thought… there was a hoodie he had at Wayne Manor that’s been missing for years, which was replaced all that time ago with a less comfortable one.
In passing, he mentioned this to Clark, who mentioned it to Jon, who (of course) told Damian, who brought it up to Jason of all people. At this point, it went full circle to Kon. They were all at the Manor for Sunday dinner, the once a month gathering where everyone caught up. Clark and Bruce were in a playful argument with Jon and Damian, Dick and Wally were holding Tim’s attention, and Jason was dishing Roy another slice of pie.
“No way. Is that your sweater?” Roy asked, pointing his fork across the table at Tim. Jason sighed, defeated.
“Yeah. We’ve been fighting over it for months. Every time I get it back, Tim steals it. Honestly, it’s kind of scary how he gets into our safehouses without tripping the alarms.”
Kon was of course jealous, for no reason other than Luthor didn’t connect the nerves properly in his brain. But why would Tim take Jason’s hoodie when Kon constantly left his own out around Tim. He ruminated over this while Jason and Roy playfully mocked Bruce and Clark, wondering if it was the material, or the design, or, oh Rao, was it the smell?
So, Kon collected three of his most comfortable hoodies. The first was freshly washed, a simple black and red zip-up, with a pretty comfortable hood that was nice for putting over the eyes when taking a nap. Kon draped this one over Tim’s spot on the couch at the Tower.
The next one was a dark blue Metropolis hoodie, no zipper, and was relatively clean. Kon wore it once, only while he was going over mission reports with Clark, and left it in the Batcave where Tim keeps his hoard of Zesti.
Finally, Kon left his favorite hoodie at Tim’s apartment the morning before their scheduled hangout. There was a show to catch up on and Tim was ordering actual food, not just energy drinks and coffee. After Tim left for work, he laid the sweater out on the couch. It was so comfortable, soft and gray, and a little big on Kon. He wore this one all the time, and was a little sad to part with it, but it would be worth it so Tim quit wearing Jason’s hoodie.
Or, so Kon could return Jason’s hoodie, rather.
Then, Kon waited. The zip-up stayed where it was, untouched. The hoodie he left in the cave was snagged by someone, but Kon never saw Tim wearing it, so it could’ve been literally anyone else. It was a little disappointing, until he showed up on Tim’s balcony about an hour early for their hangout.
“Hey, Timbo! You home yet?” Kon called. He obviously heard Tim’s heart, but wanted to politely let him know Kon was walking in.
“Hey, Konnie,” Tim said, soundlessly walking across the carpet from the hall, coming into the open living room where Kon came in.
And Kon’s stupid, stupid heart started aching in his chest. Like, so bad, Kon had to rest his hand over it. Tim was freshly showered, a pair of sweatpants tucked into the tops of fluffy socks. And he was wearing Kon’s favorite hoodie. Grey and far too big for him, the sleeves covering his hands, hem hanging almost completely over his butt. He looked good; damn near irresistible. And Kon knew for a fact Tim didn’t wash it, just threw it on after he showered and changed. This was quickly going to become Kon’s favorite sight— not the golden sunsets at Ma and Pa’s farm, not the twinkling stars when Kon left the atmosphere, not even a shiny new motorcycle. It was Tim wrapped in his hoodie, looking soft and comfortable and content.
“So… what do you want for dinner?” Tim asked, catching Kon staring.
“You,” Tim raised a brow. Kon gulped. “I meant you pick.”
Chapter 2 - Oh, Why Do I Keep Ending Up Here On Starlit Evenings?
Kon was convinced everything about Tim was drool-worthy.
Including that brain.
Sometimes, when he was hunched over case files, or a piece of tech, Kon would focus really hard and listen to the different neurons firing. Some think punk music, with strumming guitars and banging drums, was his favorite genre; but, it was the orchestra of activity inside of Tim’s brain.
Maybe Kon just found dorks and dweebs attractive. But Tim was special. He could solve any problem or any case, design all sorts of tech, and knew just about everything about anything. If he didn’t, he would spend weeks learning everything he could. No one got more use out of their library card and fake university emails than Tim.
Whenever Bart needed help on his suit, Tim fixed it. Whenever Cassie had political issues, Tim was there to help her navigate it. Rao, even Justice League members went to Tim for help when Bruce was busy. He was smart, that brain was one of his most beautiful assets in Kon’s opinion.
So, whenever Kon had an issue, he’d go to the Cave. Tim was typically there, hunched over at the keyboard, neurons firing as fast as they were burning. Kon would float around him, sighing dramatically, turning upside down at the computer so his face was covering Tim’s work.
“Yes, Kon?” Tim would say, leaning back into a stretch.
“Oh, I just need some help.”
Tim looked at Kon with a blank expression.
“You see, Ma needs help at the farm. The tractor needs repairs; I tried to look at it, but I can’t figure it out,” Kon said, using a bit of TTK and laying on his side over the computer.
“Didn’t Bruce offer to buy a new one?” Tim said, raising his brows.
Okay, so. Kon was busted.
Jon, Kon, and Clark all use the farm as an excuse to drag their Bat away from work. Ma was always happy for extra help and to make a big meal for everyone. Pa was happy to see his boys (meaning, not the Supers, but the Bats), and Krypto loved having someone to play with for a while.
Clark had a similar ploy to get Bruce to take a break. He went to the farm, ripped out a bunch of wires from some panel, and told Bruce it wouldn’t start. Bruce didn’t even look up from his reports, mumbling: “My checkbook is in the study. Find one they like.”
Kon remembers Clark sighing, explaining he was trying to get Bruce away from the desk and into some sunlight for a while, and the Batman himself getting a little embarrassed. Maybe Kon needs to learn from Jon, who just swings Damian over his shoulder and deals with the punches until Damian sees the cows.
“Um, well, you know how Ma and Pa don’t like handouts. Maybe you can just take a look?”
Tim sighed, giving a longing look over Kon’s shoulder and standing. So, Kon got them to the farm, got a decent meal in Tim, and sat in the barn with him while they looked at the tractor. Tim realized the wires were pulled, but was willing to take Kon’s mouse excuse and started rewiring things while humming to himself. And Kon just sat there and stared at Tim, admiring his long, elegant fingers taping and bending the wires. He admired Tim’s plush lip between perfect teeth, the streaks of grease on his cheek when Tim tried to tuck hair behind his ears. And Kon’s favorite: the little hmm Tim would exhale when he was stumped, or when he figured out the issue.
So here was Kon, back in the Cave, but no farm excuse. This time, he was genuinely upset. He really wanted piercings (he was punk rock, okay?! And not Clark’s version of “punk rock”; Kon was actually punk). Kon tried to go to a parlor, but of course the needle bent. He made up some excuse as to why that happened and fled, then came to the Cave for Tim’s help.
Kon was punk rock, but not punk enough to pierce himself.
“But how could I even get a needle through my skin?” Kon asked, floating upside down so his face was covering the Batcomputer. He would just have to force Tim to look at him.
“Kryptonite needles,” Tim said casually, like he didn’t just give Kon the answer to the universe’s secrets.
“Tim! You’re a genius!” Kon shouted, righting himself and landing behind Tim’s chair. He spun the chair around, effectively tearing Tim away from his work. “Do you know how to make something like that?”
Tim blinked once, slow like a cat. Or a lizard.
“I already have some developed, just in case you, or Clark, or Jon ever needed stitches.”
Kon freaked and tried to get Tim to pierce his ears, and eyebrow, and nose, and tongue pronto, but Tim said he needed to do more research. He supposed it made sense; the technique, what metal to use, and how long until Kon could step into the sun. But, Tim was a genius. A hot genius, admittedly, but still a genius. Kon was confident he could’ve done it right then and there, but Tim was too caring.
The next few weeks, between cases and patrol and Titan’s missions, Tim learned everything he could about piercing techniques, metal types, and Kon’s healing factor. Kon mostly sat around and admired Tim, thinking with his lower lip between his teeth, or the little hmm he would make when something made sense, or his eyes lighting up at something interesting. Occasionally, Kon would make Tim fix his posture. Kon also made sure he was well fed, and was drinking water and not coffee or energy drinks.
Then, one day, Kon showered up to the Cave with his arms full of Ma Kent’s leftovers, and found Tim sitting in the medical bay with a small tray of green needles, silver hoops and bars, and cleaning solution. There was also a sun lamp that was turned off by the papered bed. Tim smiled and patted the spot Kon would sit.
“Hope you’re ready.”
Kon was sitting in a flash of excited speed, making a slight breeze tussle Tim’s hair, almost like it was too excited to sit still as well. Tim chuckled and put on a pair of latex gloves, making Kon flush with how scientific and intelligent he looked. Tim cleaned one of the needles, then Kon’s ear, then the jewelry.
“This might sting. If it hurts too much, we don’t need to do the rest.”
Kon relaxed and watched Tim’s concentrated face. There was a slight flush across his cheeks, over the bridge of his nose, and his lower lip was tucked between his teeth. Then, he pressed the needle through Kon’s lobe and quickly adjusted the earring. It pinched, but wasn’t unbearable.
“Good?” Tim asked, handing Kon a small mirror to inspect the piercing while he cleaned the next round of materials.
“It’s perfect!” Kon grinned.
So Tim did a few more ear piercings: the cartilage on both ears and the orbital on the ear without the lobe piercing. He moved down to the septum, cooing when Kon hissed at the crunch. His little noise of sympathy made Kon smile a bit, loving how careful Tim was with him. Then, when Tim did his eyebrow, Kon actually yowled like a cat. Tim made a little awe sound and brushed his lips above the spot, like it was second nature. Kon has seen Tim do similar things to Damian when he gets hurt, or to the kids they rescue when they have scrapes or bruises, but to have it done to him… his heart was thumping.
Now, it was time for the tongue. Kon hoped Tim would kiss that one, too, in his fancy, crisp-white medical gown.
“I read this one can hurt a lot,” Tim warned, gorgeous eyes soft with care and concern.
“Lay it on me, hummingbird,” Kon winked.
“Alright, stick your tongue out, tough guy.”
Kon stuck his tongue out, a grin on his face that pulled his lips back to reveal his sharper canine teeth. Tim looked down at him with slightly parted lips, his blush spreading to the tips of his ears and down into his shirt. It took his brain a second to catch up, then, he used the tweezers to grab Kon’s tongue, and poked the needle through, repeating the piercing process. Quickly, Tim turned away, and Kon smiled around the pain in his mouth to see the back of Tim’s neck red, too.
“Give it a few minutes, then I’ll turn the lamp on.”
Kon just grinned, wincing at the jewelry clinking off of his teeth. The realization he had the same effect on Tim made the pain worth it.
Chapter 3 - I Should Be Home Sleeping
Tim is the sweetest person Kon knows
Sweeter than Ma’s apple pie she bakes with dinners, or Pa’s cinnamon rolls he bakes Christmas morning, and sweeter than the chocolate candies he and Bart share for extra energy on missions. All the Bats show care in their own ways; Bruce lends a good listening ear, Dick is very affectionate, Jason cooks and drops off meals in the dead of night, and Damian will kill someone for you.
But Tim is a bit sweeter than that.
Cassie has a bad habit of dozing off on the couch. She stays up late, watching whatever garbage reality show is on that month, and doesn’t make it to bed until the sun is breaking the horizon over the sea. Tim will wander to the kitchen to get an energy drink, or coffee, and toss a blanket on her, tucking her in so it doesn't move when she rolls around. Cassie caught him once, tucking the edges around her limp body, asking her if she’d rather be brought to bed.
Bart (like most Speedsters) basically needs to snack constantly. He gets a little overstimulated with this, having to constantly prepare snacks and have them on hand. Of course, there’s the energy bars Barry and Wally eat, but he hates the taste and the texture. So, Tim took it upon himself to improve the recipe for Bart’s taste. He also personally packages little containers of trail mix, or cheese and crackers, or finger sandwiches so there’s a variety around the Tower.
Tim is even sweet to criminals. He never cuffs them too tight, always making sure he can fit a bit of wiggle room between their wrists and the cuffs, and he never uses unnecessary force unlike some of the other Robins. When Ivy and Quinn teamed up, trying to do more chaotic good than chaotic evil, he would tip them off on where Bruce was going to patrol so they could stay out of that area (or mess with him, depending on their mood).
There’s a difference between nice, kind, and sweet. Some people have all three, some only one, some none. Bruce is nice, but not kind or sweet (except maybe to Clark and his kids). Dick is all of the above. Jason is kind. Damian is… none, minus to Jon, who gets the nice and kind and sweet parts of Damian. But Tim… he’s just sweet. Like a marshmallow, almost. He’s kind of awkward to be nice, and a little too goblin-ish to be kind, but anyone can tell how he consistently prioritizes the feelings and well-being of others.
And Tim really takes care of Kon. When Kon first started hanging around after the whole lab-thing, Tim basically taught him how to be a person. He taught Kon how to have compassion, how to have empathy. He also taught Kon how to control his strength (after a nasty playful punch gave Tim a softball-sized bruise). They would go to the library together, go to the aquarium, and visit restaurants.
To this day, Tim still takes care of Kon. Is sweet.
In Gotham, it always rains. To get any sun, Kon has to go way above the clouds. If he ever needs to get sunlight and can’t fly, he has to use the special lights they keep in the cave. On top of the rain, it is cold most of the year. In the summer, when Metropolis is sunny and warm, Gotham will have thunderstorms and feel like a crisp fall day. Kon knows it bothers Tim, getting soaked to the bone on patrols, but he never shows it.
Instead, he’ll sit by Kon so close their thighs are brushing on the edge of a skyscraper. He’ll hold his cape up over them with one arm, grinning under his domino when the rain slips off, keeping them dry. Sometimes, he’ll even bring Kon gloves, even though Superboy’s hands never get cold.
Kon’s favorite is when Tim cups his hands over Kon’s— a tough fit, since Kon is a bit larger and stockier— and rubs them between his palms. Sometimes, he’ll bring Kon’s hands to his mouth, and blow hot air onto them.
“It almost feels like it’s going to snow,” Tim says, tossing his cape casually around Kon’s shoulders so they can share warmth. If Kon has never told Tim he doesn’t feel the chill, that’s his business.
“I can’t believe we aren’t allowed to sneak into a coffee shop to warm up,” Kon jokes, bumping his thigh into Tim’s, who snorts in agreement. They sit for a while in the rain, Kon listening for anything that needs attention, Tim using his keen eyes to look at various alleys.
“Are your hands cold?” Tim asks, not taking his eyes from the streets below.
“No, not really. Are yours?”
Tim doesn't turn his head, just reaches with his palm up to take Kon’s hand. Used to this, Kon rests both of his hands in Tim’s thin palm, trying to hide his smile. Tim sandwiches both of Kon’s hands between his, rubbing back and forth for friction. Kon’s hands were already fine, but the warmth is spreading from the tips of his ears, to his cheeks, down his chest. Then, Tim brushes his lips on Kon’s fingertips while he huffs hot air into the cocoon of their hands. His lips are a bit chapped from the cold, but Kon still wonders how they’d feel on his own.
Then, sirens start to wail in the distance. Tim gives Kon’s hands one last good huff, and swings down with his grapple. Kon feels that warmth in his chest, in his belly, for the rest of patrol, and until he falls asleep that night. The next morning, he still feels Tim’s lips on his fingers, the sweetness of it all lingering like the taste of sun-warmed fruit.
Chapter 4 - But This Time You Sat Next To Me On The Couch (Dude, Nice!)
Some people would describe Tim reaming you out as the saxophones getting louder.
When the Titans intentionally put themselves in danger, and a deep breath being inhaled was heard over the comms, they knew Tim was about to go off. Cassie and Bart would share the look.
“Me when I’m trying to do my mission but the saxophones are getting louder,” one would mutter.
Tim would snort a laugh into the comms. But it wasn’t the funny kind of laugh; it was the there is about five seconds to run kind of laugh.
“What the absolute hell were you thinking?” He would yell, causing the team to wince and turn their comms down a few notches. No one really cared about the hollering, it was just embarrassing. Tim was only looking out for them, calling the team out on unnecessary risky behavior. It was easy for Tim to be on the defense since he had no powers, but the others sometimes got carried away. Cassie would mumble her apologies, Bart would try to defend himself before realizing he would never win an argument against Tim, then say sorry.
But for Kon? Those saxophones would be singing. It was literally like Careless Whisper was playing in Kon’s mind on full volume.
The first time Tim yelled at him, it was after their team-up to fight Metallo. Tim drilled the risks into Kon’s head: watch out for the green kryptonite. Do not get too close. I won’t be able to watch you. Of course, Kon let himself get sloppy, and flew a little too close to the sun. Within seconds, he was writhing in pain on the ground, gasping for air. Tim quickly intervened and was able to shove his staff through the plate on Metallo’s chest that powered him.
After making sure Kon was alright, he immediately started raising his voice.
“Are you kidding me? What did I tell you? Do you ever think?” Tim said, throwing his arms around, a flush rising in his cheeks.
And Kon was just an idiot. He sat on the asphalt, rocks digging into his palms, and stared up at Tim smiling. Which made Tim even more upset.
“Oh, you think giving me a panic attack is funny?”
Kon wasn’t even sure why he found it so attractive. Maybe it was the thought Tim cared about him so much, he didn’t want anything bad to happen when he messed up during missions. It could be that pink flush on his cheeks, or the huff in his breath, or the vein that just slightly stuck out in his neck.
Tim is usually really good at holding his composure. That’s what makes him a good leader; he’s a little like Bruce in that respect. Dick honestly has a bit of a hair trigger; Kon used to think Jason was the crash out, but Dick takes the cake. Damian is terrifying. Too calm and collected for his own good. But Kon… Kon is a little hot-headed. Someone hurts his team, he tends to go a bit postal. And when anyone hurts Tim… he goes just a bit feral. That kind of explains his grudge with Jason— even though he and Tim get along fine, Kon likes to glare at him with slightly-red eyes.
Like always, some kind of alien from another dimension has to come to Earth looking for trouble. Kon is a bit fuzzy on the details still; the Justice League called in the Bats as backup, and of course, the partners in crime tagged along. Red Robin was holding his own really well, so Kon and Jon engaged in a little contest to quickly get the alien creatures cleared out while the League dealt with the alien leaders.
Everything was going fine, until Tim gasped and got tossed an alarming amount of meters. For a second, he laid there limp, then hopped a bit unsteadily to his feet. And Kon saw red. The alien that threw Tim lost its limbs. Then, the others in the surrounding area were hit with burning lasers. And finally, the one that was used to distract Tim fell to the soil without a head.
But in his little tantrum, one of the alien leaders realized they were losing, and stepped in. Kon was quickly grabbed and thrown into an abandoned building. All around him, cement and dust and metal fell. Kon was invincible, so he just kind of laid there a bit embarrassed as a literal building fell on him.
Thankfully, Green Lantern saved the day and set things right. While the rest were going over information and cleaning the scene, Tim started digging through debris to find Kon. Because he was trying to be nice, he dug himself out, sitting on a rock while Tim loomed over him with that look.
Yep, Kon was about to get yelled at. He fought a grin.
“Are you okay?” Tim asked.
“Yes.”
Then, a deep breath. Kon braced himself.
“Though I appreciate your help, what the hell were you thinking?! You could’ve gotten killed, especially if there was kryptonite involved. Do you have any idea—”
Kon was not listening. He was in Love Land, little cupids flying all around his head. Tim was magnificent like this, protective and strong and stern. His face was starting to get a bit flush under the domino with exertion, but he kept going.
And Kon knows how stupid he looked, covered in debris and dirt, blue eyes wide and probably with animated hearts swimming in his pupils. Kon felt his lips pull back into a grin, trying to nod along as Tim yelled at him. Something about it, whether it was the slight flush on his cheeks, or stern voice, or standing over him, Kon was obsessed with Tim yelling at him.
“Kon-El! Are you even listening to me?!”
At his full name, Kon just smiled harder.
Chapter 5 - I Was Wondering If Maybe You Wanted To Hangout Tonight?
For a long time, Kon called Tim his humming bird. The first few times, Tim thought he was being rude, insulting him for being small and weak. He used to huff about this nickname to Bart and Cassie, until one day, Bart interrupted and told Tim the truth.
“Are you sure he thinks you’re weak? I thought humming birds were, like, really strong. Which is surprising for how elegant and dainty they are.”
“Yeah! And they’re so cute, Tim. Are you sure Kon isn’t flirting?” Cassie asked, wiggling her eyebrows.
At that point, Kon burst into the room and changed the subject…
But Cassie was right. Kon was flirting. It was hard to not think Tim was attractive, with the elegant way he moved his body, thin fingers dancing across a keyboard or long legs gliding silently through the kitchen. And Rao, that waist. It was dainty, like a ballerina, making Kon’s hands itch to grab. And when Tim wore his loose sweats hanging off of his hipbones, Kon had to evacuate the premises so he didn’t do something dumb, like drool or sink his teeth in.
Tim was also strong; like, so strong. Kon has watched him take down men thrice his size without breaking a sweat. Once, they sparred in the red room at the cave, under red sun lamps so Kon was on his level. Safe to say, Tim mopped the floor with him.
So, Tim was his humming bird. All dainty bones and perfect skin, but the strength and speed to rival a hawk.
The worst part was these feelings never went away. Kon snuck glances at Tim literally all day, admiring the elegant beauty and wishing he could just once put his hands on that waist, trace his thumbs on those hips. Once, after a particularly long patrol, Tim shucked his suit off to curl up in the computer chair in the Cave. He was left in the tight-ish fitting pants and a long sleeved compression shirt, hugging his boney shoulders and cinched waist. Kon was enjoying the view as Tim stretched his arms up over his head, until Bruce slammed a stack of files in front of him, startling Kon from his trance.
He was going to make a comment about Clark doing the same darn thing when Bruce wasn’t looking, but Kon was getting the Batglare, so he mumbled his apologies and got to work on the files before Bruce took out the kryptonite.
Maybe Kon was a bit of a dog. His eyes always were wandering to Tim, honing in on those strong yet delicate features. During missions, when he was making fights look like ballroom dances, and just lounging on the couch at the Nest, admiring porcelain skin and a fine waist when Tim’s shirt rode up.
This evening was no different to wandering eyes and traitor thoughts. It was late after patrol. Kon was making Tim a cup of lavender tea, so he could finally get some decent sleep. He was also supposed to be figuring out dinner, but the only things in Tim’s cupboards were canned soup and coffee; the fridge was just full of Zesti. Seems Kon would need to head to the grocery store in the morning. He stirred in honey with a sigh, wondering what was open. Batburger was always a safe bet, filling and rich with carbs and fats and salt, all of the things Tim needed.
Kon heard a sigh, then some shuffling.
“Hey, I used your extra soap. I think Jason used the rest of mine,” Tim called, ruffling his hair with a towel as he walked into the kitchen.
And Kon nearly shattered the little porcelain teacup he was holding. The spoon used for stirring in the honey was a goner, bent into a parabolic shape in his tight fist.
Tim walked across the tile with the elegance of a dancer, socked feet moving soundlessly. He wore a pair of Kon’s sweatpants, the long legs tucked into the tops of his socks, the waist slung dangerously low on his hips. The shirt was one of Dick’s low-cropped band tees, so although Kon couldn’t see that dainty waist, he had a full view of Tim’s grabbable hips and the V of his abs. Kon’s little humming bird, all lethal grace and strength underneath dainty bones and perfect skin.
And to make matters worse, he walked right up to Kon, standing so close he could feel the warmth of Tim’s skin from his shower, smell his own body wash on Tim’s skin, the citrus shampoo in his damp hair. They were so close, if Kon took a deep breath, he could’ve touched Tim with his chest. Then, Tim looked up at him through his thick, black lashes.
“So… what are you going to make for dinner?”
Kon has never been more thankful that Tim sent him away with cash to get takeout. He needed to feel the cold, night air on his face to calm him down before doing something stupid, like telling Tim he loved him or grabbing that little waist.
Epilogue - We Can Make Dinner Or Something
Tim never really found anyone attractive. Sure, he found Cassie beautiful, or Bart handsome, even Poison Ivy was stunning. But Tim never really thought about dating, and finding a partner never really crossed his mind; there were always missions to plan, cases to solve, and tech to fix, so why bother?
Until Kon-El came barrelling into Tim’s life.
It was suddenly like the sun shined for the first time, or the clouds cleared enough to see the moon and stars. For the first couple of years Clark took him in, Kon followed Tim around like a loyal puppy. It was cute, and kind of flattering, and Tim helped him find a purpose outside of whatever garbage Luthor tried to program him to do. It was inevitable that Tim would not only fall in love with Kon, but see him as the most attractive being in the universe.
Kon has great looks; perfect black hair, piercings that Tim did for him that made Kon look unique, tall and chiseled like a fine sculpture, and piercing blue eyes. His personality was sweet and fiery, a perfect mix of seriousness and humor, and you could always rely on him.
But the hottest thing about Kon-El? How protective he was of Tim.
At first, it was something he hated. Tim was not weak; he could fight for himself just fine. But then the whole Jason-Titan’s Tower-blood-bath fiasco happened, and Tim started to see things just a bit different. Kon was the one who found Tim, eyes wide and choking on his own blood in the hall. When Tim woke up in the Cave, Kon was at his side, eyes glowing a dangerous shade of red. Despite the burning rage written all over his face, Kon gently picked up Tim’s hand and rested his warm face in Tim’s cold palm.
“Tell me to do it, Tim. Two words, and I will tear his head off of his shoulders.”
That should have scared Tim; should have made him call Bruce and Clark to make sure Kon wasn’t going to get himself sent off to a high security cell. Instead, those words lit a fire in Tim’s belly, made blood rush to his cheeks.
“No, just… stay,” Tim croaked out, gently tucking a few loose curls behind Kon’s ear.
“I’ll never leave your side. My Tim… I should’ve been there.”
Then the heart monitor started freaking out, causing Bruce and Alfred (and Clark) to literally break the door off of the hinges trying to make sure Tim was fine.
Now, whenever Kon shows even a hint of protective possessiveness, Tim’s heart does all sorts of tricks. Honestly, it’s surprising Kon didn’t suspect the effect he had on Tim. Instead, he just thought Tim was afraid of him.
Kon is still very wary of Jason. Tim thinks it’s cute, getting his heart racing every time, but Jason thinks it’s annoying. They are over that; in fact, Tim and Jason are pretty decent friends. Red Hood stores Zesti at all of he and Arsenal’s safehouses for when Red Robin swings by. He even lends Tim his precious leather jacket on patrols since Red Robin has a hard time staying warm on slow nights. Tim slides Jason case information under the table and hides Hood’s unorthodox methods from Bruce in return. So, they’re friends. They get along. Kon tries, but sometimes, his instincts get the better of him.
One day, Tim and Kon were helping Alfred with Sunday roast. Jason showed up early with Roy and found himself in the kitchen helping, too. Kon was buttering the rolls, Tim was chopping carrots, and Jason was dicing the potatoes. Alfred was searing the meat, politely humming to himself. Roy was banished after he kept eating the ingredients, much to Jason’s amusement.
Everything was great, until it wasn’t.
Jason tried to reach over Tim for a bowl, knife pointed at a dangerous angle for anyone else minus Bruce’s kids, and muttered a: “move, replacement.” In the blink of an eye, Kon was across the kitchen, knife bent in half and far from Jason’s hands, one hand on Tim’s chest to keep him away from Jason and the other roughly grabbing Jason’s collar.
“Master Kon, that was my good knife,” Alfred frowned.
Tim was a blushing, stuttering mess. Jason was pretty large, even Tim struggled to get him pinned when they were sparring, but Kon had him raised up on his toes with one hand. Tim knew his heart was racing, earning a frown from Kon. A bit roughly, he set Jason down and turned to Tim.
“I would never hurt you, Tim. I’m sorry if I startled you, I didn’t mean to overreact," Kon said, the red in his eyes vanishing in an instant.
“Don’t think that’s the explanation for his reaction, Clone Boy,” Jason mumbled, back to Kon as he searched for a new knife. Kon’s eyes narrowed, the red hue rising to the surface.
“Master Jason, I would refrain from making any more comments,” Alfred said politely.
So… Kon is very protective. Even during missions, he usually sticks to the flanks to guard Red Robin’s back. When he isn’t with Tim on the field, he’s always paying special attention to his heart rate and other vitals. That has both saved and embarrassed Tim, because Kon has a bad habit of hearing something alarming, freaking out, and showing up wherever Tim is unannounced.
Most recently, it was a good thing.
Of course, the Joker was doing what the Joker does. Batman decided to work comms with Superman in the Cave, confident Nightwing, Red Hood, and Red Robin could handle it. Robin was benched for an injury, unfortunately in a medically-induced sleep so he didn’t break out to go fight, so they were down a man. There were a lot of goons, so they were stretched thin. Of course, Tim made a few stupid mistakes and got himself captured, currently tied to a chair with a pounding headache from getting hit in the back of the head. Tim tried to blink through his pain while the Joker got his torture instruments ready. Red Robin tried to stay calm, really did, but the psycho came at Tim’s face with a curved blade.
“Let’s put a smile on that face, boy!”
Jason should be here soon, with the rest of the Bats close behind, so hopefully the Chelsea grin the Joker was about to give him wouldn’t leave too bad of a scar. Tim sucked in a shaky breath, receding into his mind to endure the pain. The blade was barely pressed to the corner of his mouth when the warehouse wall exploded.
Rocks scattered everywhere, none hitting Tim as he was enclosed in a warm embrace. He smiled despite the situation; of course Kon would come save him. Conner wasn’t in his suit, just the leather jacket he always wore and a pair of ripped jeans. Clark would probably give him a hard time for that. Kon gently set Tim down and turned to the Joker, lips pulled back in a vicious snarl, eyes so bright and so red, it was like looking into a laser beam.
“Superboy! How fun it is to see you!” Joker cackled. Kon didn’t move.
“You will never see again by the time I’m done with you,” Kon said, his voice an octave that Tim never heard before.
And for once in Tim’s life, the Joker looked scared. Like he lost. A deep, sadistic part of Tim wanted to laugh.
Kon took two steps, backing the Joker into a corner. Then, Jason’s sportbike came screeching tires through the hole Kon created when he flew into the warehouse. He reached for his holsters, eyes not leaving the Joker.
“You good, Rob?” Jason asked.
“Peachy,” Tim said.
“Superboy, stand down. That is an order from Batman and Superman. Besides… his head is mine,” Red Hood warned, pointing his weapon at the Joker. Kon just glared at Jason, hands balled into fists at his side.
“He hurt my only reason for being good. I will not let him get away with that.”
“Superboy, this is your last warning before Superman comes and diffuses the situation.”
Tim slowly walked to Kon with his hands raised as if he was approaching a startled animal. Jason still had his eyes on the Joker, weapon trained on the clown in case he tried anything. Kon let some of the tension in his body go, held in the need to use his lasers so as to not scare Tim. Red Robin’s heartbeat was already reaching triple digits.
“Konnie,” Tim started.
“What do you need? I’ll do anything. I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask if you were hurt,” Kon said, voice nearing a pleaful tone, gently swiping the bit of blood from the corner of Tim’s mouth with the back of his finger. The red in his eyes started to come back as he inspected the red drips on his finger. He could hear Batman losing his cool in Jason’s helmet, Superman’s deep voice asking about suiting up. Tim had to get Kon out of here now.
“Take me where we see the stars,” Tim requested gently, knowing the top of their favorite building would give them enough space to calm Kon down.
Kon stared at the Joker, then at Jason. With a sigh, he carefully stooped to pick up Tim, collecting him bridal style. Then, they were gone, floating into the night. Kon kept looking at the bloody gash on the corner of Tim’s mouth. To Kon, it was like a lethal wound. To Tim, it was unnoticeable. When Kon made it to the building, he didn’t set Tim down like usual. He just sat on the ledge, cradling Tim in his lap as if he were fragile. It was a bit humiliating, but nice. Warm, in a way he only felt when Bruce used to cradle him as a child after nightmares.
“Thank you, Kon. I know I can always count on you,” Tim tried, giving Kon a smile.
“I hate that, Tim. Why were you alone? Why even go after him yourself? Jason knows how dangerous he is, Dick too, and yet—”
“Kon, take a deep breath. It’s okay.”
His eyes were getting more red by the second. Tim took control of the situation and helped him calm down, focusing on keeping his heart beating slow and steady. Kon mimicked Tim’s breathing.
“Good. You’re so good, Kon,” Tim said, talking about his breaths, trying to keep Kon’s head level. Kon had a different idea; Kon wasn’t naturally good. Not even close. Tim was what made him good.
“I’m only good because you make me good, Tim. I’m not like Clark, or Jon, or Barry. I wasn’t made to be good. If anything happened to you… if anything happened to my Tim… Rao, I think I would tear the universe to shreds. I would sacrifice the world for you. I, well, I love—”
Tim grabbed Kon’s hand, uncurling his fingers so they were no longer in a fist. He rested his head in Kon’s hand, nuzzling his palm and pressing a gentle kiss to the center.
“I know, Konnie. You always take such good care of me. I’ve always known.”
Kon smiled, his turn to feel shy, the red giving away to the striking blue eyes Tim was so used to seeing. He rubbed his thumb across Tim’s cheek, down to the scabbing corner of his mouth. Tim grinned back, tilting his head into Kon’s palm just a touch more. And as the two inched closer, a gentle brush of lips that quickly turned into something more desperate, Superman’s voice ruined the moment.
“Oh, darn. Bruce is going to kill all of us.”