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Conner was bored out of his brain.
He didn't know what he'd done to deserve this—one minute he was hanging out at the farm, playing tag with Krypto, and the next Clark was all stern and annoying in his face telling him he needed to start thinking about what he wanted to, like do with his life, or something.
And now he was in a spinny chair, wearing a boring shirt and tie, trying not to combust from boredom as an unpaid intern at the Daily Planet.
He was Superboy, for fuck's sake. He should be out there doing things! Saving people! Kicking ass!
He could hear Clark's annoying voice in his head: "And I'm Superman. You need a balance, a life outside of the suit. Sure, you've got school, but you need to start thinking about what comes next for Conner Kent, not just Superboy."
Conner didn't know what he wanted to do next, but he sure as fuck knew he didn't want to work here. He didn't want to be one of these boring, tie wearing adults who laughed at dumb inside jokes and thought their articles about sports games mattered.
He looked through the entire building. X-ray vision, super-hearing, he had every tool at his disposal to find something to keep himself entertained, but nothing was even remotely interesting. He wished he could sneak out, but that was kind of difficult when Superman himself was keeping an eye on you. Clark had told him he could go where he wanted within the office—talk to people, get a feel for the place!—but he could see it all perfectly fine from here.
He looked through the boring walls, through the boring offices, the boring cafeteria, the boring record room, the—
Wait.
There was someone down there—someone who definitely didn't work for the paper. They couldn't work for the paper, because they were far from boring. Too young, first of all, and not dressed in a stuffy boring suit.
A fresh, non-boring face. Jackpot.
"Hey, Clark?" he asked.
"Hm?" Clark looked up from his computer. "What's up?"
"I'm gonna go down to check out the record room."
"Awesome! You know the archives are fascinating, there's so much history down there, and—"
Conner didn't wait for him to finish, just walked away and made for the stairwell. There was nobody in there, so he gave himself a little speed-boost to get down to the basement.
He could hear muttering down in the archives, and he followed the sound, removing the tie Clark had insisted on and dropping it as he walked.
He stopped as he caught sight of the kid, hunched over an old paper and typing furiously on a tablet. Conner said kid—he was probably Conner's own age, or close enough, but he was on the shorter side.
"Hey there," Conner said, adopting what he hoped was a cool, casual pose leaning against a filing cabinet.
The kid jumped and spun around, eyes wide—and very blue. "I'm allowed to be here!" he yelped.
"I wasn't questioning that," Conner held his hands up, trying not to laugh. He liked this kid already—he was easy to mess with. "What brings you to the most boring place in the world?"
The stranger looked at Conner like he was crazy. "Are you kidding me? This place isn't boring, it's a treasure trove of information. Everything the Planet has ever reported on, all in one place. Most of this stuff hasn't been digitized, so it's—"
"Ohhh," Conner grinned. "So, you're a nerd, is what you're saying."
Those blue eyes narrowed at Conner. "Says the guy in a button-down and slacks," he said, giving him a clear once over.
"Touché. I'm Conner. My, uh…I was dragged here for an internship. Didn't have much say in the matter. This isn't my usual style."
"Tim. Nice to meet you, Conner." Tim turned away, going back to the papers he was perusing. "I've got work to do. Enjoy your internship."
"Hey! Come on, I'm trapped here, and you're the only person who isn't extremely boring in this whole building! Please don't send me back out there!" Conner pouted.
Tim looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "If you're going to bug me, at least help me research."
"You want me to…work?" he asked.
"That's why you're here in those slacks, right? To work?" Tim glanced at him. "I'm doing research for my show. Actually, I could use an assistant, if the internship here doesn't work out."
Conner was suddenly even more intrigued. "You've got a show? What? Aren't you a little young for that?"
"I'm nineteen." Tim snapped. Then he sighed, turning to look at Conner fully again. "If you must know, it's a true crime show. I'm working on season two right now. Looking into the murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne in Gotham, like thirty years ago."
Conner thought about it. Reluctantly, he nodded. "Okay, yeah, that's actually pretty cool. What do you need?"
That was how it started. A month and a half later, Conner had pretty much cemented himself as the second half of Tim's internet show. He'd played it close to the chest, but the case just kept growing bigger and bigger, and Conner was really starting to think that this would be a major news story, once it dropped. The way Tim spoke about it…yeah, the show was going to be a hit.
Conner was proud of himself. Proud enough that he actually decided to tell his family, once Tim was happy enough with their progress to fix a release date for the season premiere.
When he told Clark, though, he'd been weird about it. Conner didn't know why he was surprised enough to be disappointed. It was something actually interesting, so of course Clark hated it.
"It's journalism, Kal!" Conner had shouted, when Clark tried to dissuade him. "It's me doing something with my civilian life! Isn't that exactly what you wanted?"
Clark had made a face. "I understand that, Kon. I just…couldn't you just…pick a different case?"
Conner shook his head. "There's layers to this one, Clark. It's big—Tim's really onto something here, I swear. The Waynes are…did you know that Bruce Wayne actually adopted another kid whose parents died under suspicious circumstances? And that he's since adopted another, except this time—"
"Stop!" Clark was angry, Kon realized. He was genuinely angry, in a way Conner had never seen before.
"Dude, what's the big deal?" Conner asked.
Clark had just shook his head and turned away. "I've got to…Justice League meeting, I just remembered…"
And then he was gone.
Conner ranted about it to Tim, next time they met up to work. He kicked an empty soda can on the floor of Tim's bedroom and swore.
"He's so fucking annoying," he grunted. "I don't know what his problem is, it's like nothing I do is ever good enough."
"I'm sorry, Conner. I know it's—I know you care a lot about what he thinks."
"I don't give a shit what he thinks!" Conner argued, but they both knew it was a lie. It had been difficult to explain to Tim what his relationship to Clark was, without giving away the whole superman half-clone of it all. Honestly, though, he hadn't needed to say much. Tim got it, somehow—he got Conner, in a way very few people did.
It was starting to wear on him, if he was being honest—the fact that Tim didn't know the truth. Conner had never really had a civilian friend before. He knew some of the other teen heroes, and it was always cool to hang out with them, but he never felt the need to talk to them about Ma and Pa, or about Smallville. It was different with Tim. He wanted Tim to know all of him.
Honestly, if Tim wasn't so consumed by the case, Conner was pretty sure he'd have figured it out already.
"It's just…he's so annoying," Conner grunted, flopping down next to Tim on his bed.
Tim cleared his throat. "Sure. Hey, I found that footage I was looking for, wanna see?" Tim scrambled off the bed, and if Conner wasn't so cool and self-confident, he'd feel a little bit upset that Tim was practically running away from him whenever he got close.
Good thing he was cool and self-confident, and also that he knew Tim well enough by now to understand that when he was in work mode, nothing else really existed—not Conner in his room, or Conner leaning close. Hell, he probably wouldn't even react if Conner grabbed his face and kissed him right now.
Conner wouldn't admit how many times he'd imagined doing exactly that.
So he sat back up, looking at Tim's laptop set-up. It was a little haphazard, the desk practically overflowing with case files and notes with the laptop perched on top. There was a video file open, the thumbnail grainy and blurry, just a wash of color—mostly red, with a streak of green and yellow.
Tim grabbed the laptop from the pile and sat next to Conner with it perched on his lap.
"Alright, let's see it then," Conner said, shifting a little closer, shuffling back a little so he could rest his head on Tim's shoulder.
Tim tried to shrug him off, but it was a half-hearted attempt. Conner could see the blush, and he could hear the little uptick in his heartbeat that he hoped meant what he thought it meant.
So, this thing they had was mutual. It didn't surprise him—not that he was cocky, but he'd felt it for a while. It didn't need to be a big thing, but he wasn't about to make a move himself when Tim didn't—couldn't—know who he really was. It would be unfair, right? Clark hadn't started dating Lois until she knew, had he?
Actually, he wasn't totally sure about that one. The timeline of their relationship was weird, and Conner really didn't want to get them talking about it. Clark got mushy when he talked about Lois. It was uncomfortable.
Besides, as Conner reminded himself every time he had one of those pesky little I could kiss him thoughts, there wasn't a chance in hell Tim would ever say yes to Conner—not when the case was taking up all of his energy.
Conner could wait until they'd filmed the full season. Once the show was done, he'd…well, he'd think about it, at least. He could wait until then.
But for now, he'd listen for that flutter, he'd look for the blushes that Tim couldn't hide, and he'd do his level best to annoy Tim into falling head over hills for him.
It was working pretty well so far.
Tim pressed play on the video, and actually leaned back against Conner. Score. The footage was clearly old, filmed on an actual film camera, from the look of it. Conner had never really been interested in the circus, or acrobatics—so they could swing from ropes, big whoop. It wasn't like real flying, or like TTK or any of his cool powers that he couldn't tell Tim about.
Still, the trapeze artists in the video were clearly good. Conner watched as the family soared through the air, as the little kid did a flip that, honestly, he had to acknowledge almost looked impossible by normal human standards.
"Holy shit," Tim whispered. His heart was racing now, almost at a concerning rate.
"So I'm guessing this is the kid he adopted?" Conner could see it was impressive, and it'd work well in the segment about the kid, but Tim's reaction was a little…exaggerated.
"No, it's…I mean, yeah, but…Holy shit!" Tim yelped and stood up, setting the laptop aside and shuffling through papers.
Okay, so Conner was missing something. That was fine, he was usually missing something where Tim was involved. The way his brain worked, it was amazing. He was probably the smartest person Conner had ever met—with the possible exception of Batman, but honestly Conner had been scared shitless when he'd met Batman first, and he didn't really like to compare him with Tim.
"What is it?" Conner asked. "What can I do?"
Tim pointed at the laptop without pausing what he was doing. He had the Official Timeline in hand, and he was pinning it to the wall. "Look up Batman," he ordered.
…okay, that was weird. Was Tim reading his mind? "Batman?" he asked.
"Yeah. When was he first seen, what were his early cases? When did Robin come on the scene?"
"What does Batman have to do with…?"
"Just do it! Fuck, shit, I'm gonna need to go back to the Planet, aren't I? Or, maybe the Gazette would be better? Shit, shit, of course! I'm so stupid, holy—"
Conner stood up and gently, but firmly took hold of Tim's arms. "Talk to me, Tim."
"The…the move. The flip."
"The one the kid did?" Conner clarified.
"Yeah. That one. I recognize that move, Conner."
"Oh…kay?"
Tim scoffed—an irritated sound, but at least it wasn't the mania of a few moments ago. Tim dropped to his knees to type something into the laptop, which was still sitting on the bed. "Look," he demanded.
Conner crouched next to Tim to see what he'd pulled up—it was a YouTube compilation video, one of hundreds out there documenting Superheroes in action—Conner even had a few of his own. This one was titled Nightwing's best flips caught on camera!
Conner watched, until Tim started gesticulating and skipped back to replay one of the flips. Conner watched it, then Tim switched back to the video of the Graysons. Oh. Oh!
"It's the same flip," Conner acknowledged. "But surely…I mean, it's just a flip, right? Anyone trained in acrobatics could—"
"No. No, it's…that move is crazy, Conner. When Nightwing was Robin, I saw—"
"Nightwing was Robin?" Conner asked, genuinely surprised that Tim had figured that out. Sure, he knew—he'd met Robin—two of them, in fact. He'd met Nightwing dozens of times, and knew the story of the second Robin (what teen hero hadn't been told that story as a cautionary tale?). But it wasn't public knowledge. As far as most people knew, there had been three Robins, and Nightwing had popped up as his own hero somewhere in the middle of the first Robin's tenure—honestly, if Robin 3 hadn't been easily identified as a blonde girl, Conner doubted most people would even realize there'd been that many.
"Oh you sweet, naive child. There's been a bunch of Robins. Maybe four, that I've counted? But we don't have time to get into that right now. Hear me out—I saw him do that move when he was Robin, and I looked into it—it's almost impossible. He's the only person who can do it."
"Him and Dick Grayson," Conner concluded.
Tim nodded. "Dick Grayson, who was adopted by Bruce Wayne. Bruce Wayne, who adopted another kid around the same time that the first Robin Switch happened and Nightwing started showing up."
Oh. Oh shit.
Conner put the pieces together with Clark's reaction to the story, and came up with the answer a fraction of a second before Tim said it out loud.
"Bruce Wayne is Batman."
Conner stared at Tim. Fuck. He was about to be in so much trouble.
Tim was staring at Conner, eyes bright. Conner could hear his hear race from the adrenaline of his discovery. Conner didn't know what the appropriate response was—what would normal guy Conner Kent say to this?
"That's…wow. You—you're sure?"
"It all makes sense! God, I can't believe how close I was. When I was a kid, I used to…" Tim shook his head and slumped, sitting on the floor with his legs outstretched. "I…" his expression fell, brows furrowing. "Fuck. He's Batman." Tim lay on his back, hands covering his face. "What the fuck, Conner?"
"What…what's up?"
"I can't believe we just wasted six months of research on something we can never air."
"Oh." Conner couldn't say he wasn't relieved—he hadn't been looking forward to trying to talk Tim out of sharing his research with the world. "You, uh…you don't think any of it can be used?"
Tim blew out a breath, full of frustration. "I hate having principles," he grumbled.
Conner poked his side with a toe, hoping to annoy a smile out of him. Tim huffed, so he tried again, and again, until finally Tim grabbed his foot and pulled. Conner let himself be knocked off balance, falling next to Tim.
"You're so fucking annoying," Tim huffed.
"I know." Conner grinned, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at Tim. Tim frowned at him.
Conner wanted to kiss him, and for the first time it felt like a real option. His eyes flickered down to Tim's lips, just for a moment. All he'd have to do is lean down, and he could do it.
Tim's frown turned contemplative, eyes bright. He wasn't running away. There was a slight hitch in his breath. Conner licked his lips, and he saw Tim watch the movement.
He could do it
"I—" Tim began, but Conner stopped him, covering Tim's mouth with a hand. There was someone outside the apartment.
Tim was trying to break free, squirming, making muffled sounds against Conner's hand, but Conner's attention was outside. "Shh!"
Tim went still, brow furrowing in question, just as a figure appeared in the window.
Conner recognized her immediately.
Robin number three—now a Batgirl. She slipped in through the window and stood over them, hands on her hips.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" She grinned. "Honestly, when old Batsy mentioned a security risk, I wasn't expecting to find you here."
Conner's eyes went wide. He shook his head. Tim took advantage of his distraction to lick his hand and break free, clambering to his feet.
"You—so I was right, then?" Tim asked. "Batman is—"
"Sorry about this, buddy," Batgirl said, holding up some sort of device. "It's really nothing personal." She pressed a button on the side, and…nothing happened.
"See you later!" She smiled and disappeared out the window.
Tim blinked after her. The room was quiet for a moment, then Tim spun to his laptop, swearing under his breath.
"What's wrong?" Conner asked.
Tim sucked his teeth. "She wiped it. All of it—my research is gone." He was holding himself carefully, standing perfectly still—Conner could see through the act. He reached out and pulled Tim into his arms, holding him until his body crumpled against his chest. "It's all gone."
Conner didn't point out that he'd already accepted he couldn't use it—he didn't need to. He'd find a new case, something else to consume his interest. Tim would be okay, but for now he needed time to get there, and Conner was happy to hold him through it.
The moment stretched, until finally Tim looked up at Conner, brow furrowed in that familiar way—he was trying to work out a conundrum.
This time, though, his focus wasn't on a case—it was Conner.
"She…she was talking to you, wasn't she?"
Conner bit his tongue. He wouldn't lie to Tim, but he didn't know how to admit to hiding something for so long.
"She recognized you—she knows you."
"We've…met. Once or twice."
Tim's eyes narrowed. "You—oh my god." He stepped out of Conner's arms. "Oh my god! I'm so stupid, you're Supe—" His expression changed from surprise to hurt. "You…you didn't, you know, know, did you?"
Conner frowned for a moment.
"I mean, you've worked with them! I've seen you in clips, you've fought beside Robin, and with Nightwing and Batgirl, and…You know them, Conner!"
Conner bit his lip to avoid smiling. Tim wasn't upset that Conner had hidden half his life from him—he was upset at the thought that Conner had been jeopardizing his research.
"I promise, Tim. I had no idea—the Bats are…pretty famously secretive about that kind of thing. I mean, even Cl—" Conner shut his mouth quick, wincing at his own words.
Tim's eyes were wide. "Clark is…wow. Wow, no wonder he was… and that's how—goddamn it, how did I not figure it out before?"
"I'm sorry, Tim. I should've—"
Tim held up a hand. "Sorry, I'm processing."
Conner sat down on the edge of the bed, watching Tim pace across the room. "It makes so much sense. I mean, like last week when you offered to go out for snacks, you were so fast. You—"
"I…may have used a little super-speed, yeah."
"You don't have a friend you're staying with in town either, do you?"
Conner winced. "I…no, I don't. Sorry—I've been flying home."
"To Metropolis?" Tim asked.
"To, uh…Kansas, actually."
Tim just accepted that. He nodded once, and went back to pacing. Conner could practically see the cogs turning in his head.
"You've been flying, and super-speeding and…and—"
"Tim." Conner had to stop him in his tracks, had to snap him out of this spiral. He put himself in Tim's path, not hiding his speed for the first time. Tim walked right into him, then froze, blinking rapidly.
"Oh." Tim's voice was small. "Wow, okay. That's…new."
"Bad new?" Conner asked.
Tim shook his head. "Definitely not bad."
Conner looked down as Tim looked up at him, and their eyes locked. They were standing close—closer than they had been on the floor, but Tim wasn't moving away. He met Conner's eyes, blinking slowly.
Conner felt himself sway forward, like Tim's lips were a magnet, drawing him closer. It wasn't the right time, he told himself. There was too much going on right now, too many revelations all at once, and it wouldn't be—
Conner's thoughts were stopped in their tracks as Tim all but threw himself at him, arms wrapping around his neck, lips capturing Conner's in a kiss.
Conner felt himself stumble backwards, but he caught himself with the help of a little TTK field as his hands flew to Tim's waist. His lips parted, and Tim's tongue licked into his mouth. Conner couldn't help himself—he held Tim close and rose just a few inches off the ground.
He felt Tim gasp as his feet rose into the air, and he pulled away from the kiss. "Holy shit," Tim whispered, clutching Conner tighter. "We're—you're flying right now."
Conner smiled. "I've wanted to do that for a long time." He leaned in and kissed Tim again, slow and sweet. "Just wait—I can fly you anywhere you wanna go."
Tim pulled away again, grinning. "What about Batman's secret lair?"
Conner laughed, settling then both back on the floor. "I wish—I for sure haven't been invited into the Batcave."
"So it is a cave! Man, I wonder if it's connected to Wayne Manor, or—" Conner kissed him again, just to make him stop talking. "Hey!" Tim protested. "Not fair."
"Really?" Conner asked. "You didn't like that?" He bit his lip and watched Tim's cheeks turn pink.
"I don't—"
"You don't want me to kiss you? That's fine!" Conner let go of Tim and took a step back. "I get it, Batman's more—mmpfh!" Conner laughed into the kiss. He was so deliciously easy to rile up—Conner loved it.
The laptop, long since forgotten about on the bed, lit up—a familiar icon filling the screen.
"Oh no."
"What?" Tim asked, following his eyes. He reached for the computer, tapping a few buttons until a chat screen opened. Conner leaned over his back, looking at the screen with his chin hooked over Tim's shoulder.
This time, Tim didn't shrug him off as Oracle's words appeared on the screen.
Hello, Timothy Jackson Drake. Nice work, sorry I had to destroy it—I do enjoy your show. If you want to put your skills to work for a good cause, I'm sure I can find a use for you.
Tim craned his neck to look at Conner.
"Looks like your research isn't going to waste after all," Conner noted. "Now, come on—reply to the scary computer lady who sees everything that happens everywhere there's an internet connection. I wanna take you on a date."
Tim bit back a smile. "You're so annoying."