Chapter Text
The Kent farm had always been quiet in a way Kon had never fully appreciated before, the kind of quiet that came from miles of open fields, distant roads and the absence of a city pressing against every inch of the horizon, but lately that same quiet had become unbearable.
Kon could hear everything now, the wind shifting through the corn, insects moving through the grass, birds calling from trees several fields away, the old farmhouse settling around him and the distant rumble of machinery that he was fairly certain nobody else in the house could even hear, all of it piling into his head until he sometimes found himself sitting on the porch with his palms pressed over his ears.
The vacation was supposed to have been easy, Ma had insisted that he needed a break from the superhero-ing, Pa had agreed, and Kon had initially been more than happy to spend a few weeks on the farm with them, expecting long afternoons, good food, maybe some chores if Ma decided he was getting too lazy, and absolutely none of the usual superhero nonsense.
Instead, his Kryptonian DNA had apparently chosen that particular moment to become active, turning what should have been a peaceful vacation into an increasingly humiliating lesson in discovering powers he had never been designed to have.
He had been born (formed?) in a tube as a fully developed teen, created with a specific set of abilities that had always been treated as the extent of what he was capable of, neither Kon, Clark, nor even Lex had apparently anticipated that the Kryptonian DNA used in his creation might eventually begin expressing itself in ways that went beyond the powers he had been given, because his tactile telekinesis had always been enough for him, it was familiar, instinctive and entirely his own. These new abilities felt like something being imposed upon him without warning or permission.
It had started with the heat vision, Kon mournfully lit a candle for Ma’s beautiful white curtains that had suffered for it. Followed by a few other changes that Kon was still trying to understand, he had just gotten an earful yesterday for accidentally freezing over the cow feed when he had what, breathed too hard over it?
At least Ma and Pa had been sympathetic, they had never made him feel strange about what was happening and had patiently dealt with every new disaster. Clark was called whenever another of his supposed genetic ability manifested, resulting in him flying from Metropolis to Kansas three times in just one week.
The conversations were as awkward as Kon had expected, the worst part had been the conversation after the second visit, when Clark, after several painfully uncomfortable attempts at explaining what might be happening, had finally and embarrassingly referred to it as a second puberty, leaving both of them staring at each other in mutual horror before Clark reluctantly began reminiscing about his own childhood on the farm and the changes he had experienced as his Kryptonian abilities developed, eventually giving Kon a general list of the things he remembered having acted as triggers for his powers.
(What do you mean the triggers of Superman’s heat vision are anger and sexual arousal?!)
Kon had wanted to crawl under the porch and stay there until the entire conversation was over.
Clark had kindly suggested that Kon return to Titans Tower for a while, reasoning that being around people closer to his own age, especially people who had more recent experience dealing with unexpected changes in their powers, might make things easier.
Kon had initially wanted to argue, but the more he thought about it, the more the idea began to make sense, because if he really was going through some bizarre alien version of a puberty, then perhaps spending some time around people who understood what it was like to suddenly discover something new about themselves would be better than remaining on the farm and accidentally setting fire to Ma's laundry every other morning.
That’s how Kon found himself sitting at the kitchen table with his head bowed and his hands clamped firmly over his ears, trying to shut out the sounds of Jump City while another headache began building behind his eyes.
If Kansas was bad, the city was absolute hell. The honking of traffic continued throughout the night, there was always some child crying out and Kon had stopped showing up when it turned out to be a temper tantrum for the fifth time in the row.
He wondered how Clark had ever survived growing up with this kind of sensory overload, he couldn’t wait to learn how to tune this out.
He was startled out of his chair when he suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder, nearly knocking the chair backward in the process, "Shit, Rob, warn a guy." Kon huffed, glaring at the masked vigilante standing behind him, because no matter how much his superhearing seemed to improve, he somehow always missed Robin sneaking up on him.
Tim smirked at Kon's startled expression, resting his hands on his hips as he regarded him for a moment, "You were distracted, another one of your headaches?" His tone softened toward the end, the teasing giving way to genuine concern.
Kon sighed, rubbing at his temples before leaning back in his chair, "Yeah, I can't control when it flares up, Clark says I'll get used to it, that eventually it'll just become background noise, but it just feels so hard right now," he admitted, frustration creeping into his voice despite his attempt to sound casual.
Tim nodded in understanding and gave Kon's shoulder a friendly pat, there was a stretch of silence for a minute.
"Will a spar help you take your mind off things?"
Kon's expression immediately shifted into a smirk, because whatever else was happening in his life, he was never going to turn down a challenge from Robin of all people, "You are on, Wonder Boy."
The mats squeaked beneath their feet as Kon circled Tim, both of them already breathing harder from the previous exchanges, Tim having given up his cape and mask before the spar while stubbornly keeping the rest of his suit on, which had earned an immediate eye roll from Kon because Tim always had to be so damn uptight about everything.
They had agreed on hand-to-hand only, no weapons and no powers, which Kon had initially thought would give him an easy advantage, he was taller, stronger and had considerably more reach, but somehow Tim had been handing him his ass from the moment the spar began, slipping beneath his punches, redirecting his weight and using Kon's own momentum against him with the kind of precision that made him increasingly certain the Gothamite was cheating somehow.
"You're enjoying this way too much." Kon muttered as Tim ducked another swing.
"Maybe you're just predictable." Tim shot back, barely giving him time to react before stepping inside his guard.
Kon tried to grab him, but Tim twisted free, caught his arm and swept his leg, sending Kon stumbling forward, and by the time he managed to regain his balance, Tim was already behind him, hooking an arm around his shoulder and forcing him down onto the mat.
Kon hit the padding with an annoyed grunt, immediately trying to roll them over, but Tim anticipated the movement and shifted his weight, pinning him before he could get any leverage. His knees braced against the mat on either side of Kon's hips while he caught both of Kon's wrists and held them firmly above his head.
Both of them were breathing hard now, Kon from the sheer frustration of being repeatedly outmaneuvered and Tim from the effort of keeping a much larger opponent pinned, but Kon could hear the unmistakable smugness that must be radiating off Tim's face and it had nothing to do with supehearing this time around.
"What does that make the score, 5-1?"
Kon kept his eyes closed for a moment, chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath, and when he finally opened them, his mouth ready to tell Tim to fuck off, the words died somewhere between his brain and his tongue.
The sight on top of him caused all the blood that had moved to his face due to exertion rush back down south.
The position itself wasn't new, they had ended up like this more times than Kon cared to count, usually because Tim had pulled one of his infuriating little dirty tricks and somehow managed to trip him up.
But instead of the red and black skin tight fabric that should have spread across Tim’s chest, that was spread across his body just a minute ago, there stood only bare skin. So much skin, wrapped around defined muscles. Fuck did he hurt his head as he hit the ground?
The distance didn’t help either, Tim’s chest was right against his face, shapely pecs topped with cute nipples that were the same shade of pink as his lips. Kon’s mouth felt dry despite the alarming amount of drool that was probably collecting in his gaping maw.
Kon wished his hands were free so he could rub his eyes and clear his vision, hoping this was a hallucination, but alas, they were being pinned down by said hallucination, a wet nightmare.
Pale, he is so pale. Kon’s thoughts ran a mile a minute, so fast that they would give Bart a run for his money. Is he down there too...? Shit yea! Kon forced his eyes to stare into Tim’s as he ‘accidentally’ caught sight of the pale thighs currently straddling his waist. Nope not going there, Down boy!
Tim's smug expression gradually shifted into confusion, head tilting slightly in that catlike manner of his as he studied Kon's face with narrowed pupils. "What's wrong?"
Kon swallowed down the whimper that threatened to spill past his lips as Tim adjusted his hips, loosening his hold over Kon’s arms. He leaned back, staring down at the Super he still firmly sat on, “Kon-El, is it the voices again?” and oh he had no right to use Kon’s Kryptonian name with that worried tone and soft look in his eyes.
He managed to give Tim a strained smile, one that he was fairly certain looked more constipated than anything else, before flipping the other boy off him. Kon was already halfway across the training room, bolting through the doors and launching himself out of the Tower without so much as a backward glance, even as a startled yelp and what sounded suspiciously like breaking glass followed him from behind.
Clark, he needed to find Clark.
“Kon, you can open your eyes now,” Clark sighed for what had to be the sixth time that afternoon, both of them crammed awkwardly into one of the Daily Planet's bathroom stalls while Kon stubbornly refused to uncover his face.
Kon shook his head firmly, palms pressed tightly over his eyes, Tim was one thing, but if he had to accidentally see Clark naked after everything else that had happened today, he was going to claw his own eyes out, unfortunately, his protests earned him nothing as Clark gently caught his wrists and pulled his hands away, forcing him to stare at the Man of Steel, who, thankfully, was still fully clothed in the ill-fitting suit associated with his civilian identity.
“It was just X-ray vision, lad. It isn't a passive ability like superhearing, you have to actively concentrate to perceive the non-visible wavelengths, so this was a one-time thing, yeah?” Clark encouraged, expression tinged with pity. A little bit of hope began to build in Kon’s chest.
“I’m sure Robin will, uh, understand that you didn't mean to peep at him like that,” Clark added, coughing awkwardly as he glanced away.
Kon's face immediately went hot again, his brief moment of relief evaporating as the memory came rushing back, and he covered his face once more with a miserable groan.