Archive of Our Own

Tim had… complicated feelings about his secret identity. Not Robin, he felt so damn free as Robin. He was unsure of himself at first, of course. Who wouldn't have been? But Jason was dead and Dick wouldn't comeback and Batman needed a Robin so Tim needed to figure out how to become the boy wonder.

Boy, did he ever figure it out.

He loved his work. He loved the detective side of things, the thinking and the solving and the mental stimulation. He loved being able to help others. He was getting better at the physical side of things, it came less naturally to him than the thinking-stuff but with all his training now he was plenty capable by now. Even worthy of being a leader of his own small team.

Not that Superboy was keen to admit Tim was the leader.

Tim didn't mind hiding his identity as Robin from the rest of the world, but he was starting to mind hiding his identity as Tim from his teammates. His friends.

He had friends at school, sure, but they weren't like the friends he was able to have behind the mask. Friendships are different when you bleed together.

…Not that some of the others did much bleeding, what with the enhanced healing factors or invulnerabilities. But Tim would bleed for them, and he knew —if they could— that they would bleed for him right back. There was trust and comradery and sometimes headaches and bickering and Tim wouldn't trade any of it for the world. Only there was an undeniable wall between him and the others. His name remained Robin, his mask remained on, and the others —try as they might to pretend they didn't mind— were left bitter and unsure where their trust with Tim laid.

Tim would bleed for them, he would die for them, he would live for them, too. These were the best friends he'd ever had. With every joke that he hated or argument they screamed at each other or prank he had to endure, they were still his best friends. The problem was with the bats. As much as Tim loved his friends, he's grown to love Bruce and Dick and the community of Gotham-based vigilantes just as much.

And sometimes when Bruce looked at Tim, he felt like a son. And most times when Dick talked to Tim, he felt like a brother. And if it was only Tim's identity at risk then he would have told his friends forever ago. He would've at least told Kon, if only to shock that idiot into shutting up for once in his life. But it wasn't just Tim's identity on the line, and Tim was intimately familiar with the idea that figuring out one of the bats meant that it was possible to figure out them all.

So Tim never told them. When they were a little younger it was worse. Wearing two dominoes while having sleep overs, swatting away curious hands, doing all he could to play off the insistent questions about who he is as something beneath him and not an insecurity that rooted itself sharp and painful in his chest.

Tim never told them. Which meant it took the sum of his training to be able to avoid flinching at all when Cassie turned to him and asked, "Hey, Rob. Do you know Tim Drake?"

What the fuck?

Tim kept his face blank as he tried to study her. She seemed casual, curious, and was missing that edge she would get in her eye if she was actually plotting something. So… It was most likely a genuine question. Tim Drake was a public figure, after all. It was just not very common to hear his name be brought up outside of Gotham or business conversations.

"I know of Tim Drake, if that's what you're asking," Tim answered. He did his best to keep his voice sounding bored and disinterested.

Cassie rolled her eyes and shot back, "It's not. I wanna know if you've ever met him."

"Why would I have met Tim Drake?" He asked. He was still on high alert, this conversation had the potential to go very wrong very quickly.

"He's from Gotham," Cissie piped up, holding one palm out and open upwards. Then she opened her other palm and continued, "You're from Gotham."

She tilted her hands up and down as if mimicking a balancing scale. Tim had to force a scoff, playing his unease off as annoyance. He rolled his eyes as he responded, "There are at least 4.8 million people who live in Gotham. It is physically impossible for me to know all of them."

Kon was in the room. Kon would hear the way Tim's heartbeat wanted to increase it's speed in fear of how this conversation was going. He needed to regulate his breathing, even slow it down a bit, if he wanted his heart to keep sounding as bored as he was trying to act.

"Who's Tim Drake?" Bart asked the girls.

"Some rich kid from Gotham," Cassie said, a little dismissively.

Ouch.

Her words were accurate, to be fair, but the tone she said it with made it sound like the only notable thing about Tim Drake was his wealth. Which, for his personas sake it probably should have been, but it was one thing to carefully craft his public image to a charicature of a child prodigy and it was another to hear one of his closest friends reinforce it.

"How rich?" Bart asked, suddenly a lot more interested.

"Not quite Bruce-Wayne levels," Cassie explained. Then she began to smirk a bit and tacked on, "But close enough to be a close family friend of the guy."

Double ouch.

That one hurt worse. There was that reminder. Tim wasn't really Bruce's family. Like, he was… Kind of. Sure, if Tim was sleep deprived enough he'd let himself admit that Dick felt like a brother. Throw in a blow to the head and Tim may even acknowledge how sometimes Bruce felt like a dad but…

Family friend.

Yeah. That makes sense.

That's all he was, as Tim and as Robin. It was the one constant between his identities, not quite family, not quite a friend.

"Why are you asking about him?" Kon asked, sounding even more bored than Tim was pretending to be.

The girls shared a smirk. There was the edge of trouble that shined in their eyes when they were up to no good. After a moment of holding each other's gaze Cissie snorted. Suddenly they were both giggling and snickering.

Tim looked over at Kon who was already looking back at him, cautiously concerned. This felt like nothing but trouble.

Bart, oblivious, just titled his head in confusion and asked, "What's so funny?"

"It's nothing," Cissie tried to dismiss.

"Oh, no," Kon shook his head, "Why are you asking about this 'Tim Drake' dude?"

Cassie gave a shrug and answered, "Girl talk."

Uh oh.

"What does some random rich kid have to do with girl talk?" Kon asked with a wrinkle of displeasure scrunching up his nose.

The girls fell into another fit of giggles at his question. After a moment —including a deep breath or three— Cissie collected herself enough to answer, "We're trying to put together a list of the hottest celebrities around our age."

Oh boy.

Tim intentionally breathed very slowly. His heartbeat would not skip harder. His cheeks would not begin to blush.

"Ooh," Bart grinned, "Can I see?"

He zipped across the room to peek over the girls' shoulder but Cassie shut her phone off and held it too her chest.

"No way!" She shrieked, clearly upset he definitely caught a quick glance before she could hide the list. Still, she leaned into Cissie and firmly stated, "Girls only!"

"Aw, come on," Bart whined, "I wanna play, too!"

Bart pouted and said, "I can help, though! You didn't even have Tim Drake on the list yet. Show me a picture, I'll add him."

Cassie began to laugh as she held her phone even closer to her chest and Cissie pushed herself as a human shield between the phone and Bart's curious eyes.

"Why would you ask about a guy who's not even on your list?" Kon called over to the girls.

Tim really didn't want to be a part of this conversation. Leaving would be suspicious, though, he just needed to come up with an excuse that felt believable.

"He's on the list," Cissie corrected, "We were about to put him down in the top three."

Top three?

Wait, only three?

Tim was not about to blush. Or scowl. Or react to the shenanigans in any way. Breathe slow, breathe deep, breathe—Holy shit, fuck breathing. He was not trained for this awkwardness. Surely that's an oversight on Bruce's part. Has the Justice League ever talked about Brucie Wayne in front of Batman?

"Top four," Cassie gave Cissie a nudge to her side.

Damn, that kind of stung.

"Three!" Cissie insisted back before arguing, "I'm telling you! He seems rich and grounded, that definitely makes him more attractive."

"And I'm telling you," Cassie sent Cissie a pointed look as she talked, "Rich and grounded is a paradox. Besides, Rob isn't able to vouch for the guy. Top four."

"I like his eyes," Bart said.

Oh, fucking hell.

Bart had, at some point, found another phone was was (presumably) looking up images of one Timothy Drake. He put his hands on his hips next to Cissie and proudly declared, "I'm team third place!"

Tim needed to get out of there.

He also really needed to know who the hell they considered the top two.

"You know," Kon spoke up. He was stretching his arms in a faux-casual way that allowed him to flex his muscles while pretending to be bored about it. He smirked over to the girls and said, "Superboy is technically a celebrity."

Cassie snorted before saying, "Oh, believe me. We know."

Kon stood up straighter to ask, "Where'd you rank me?"

If I'm top three… Tim felt a surge of competitiveness as he looked at his friend and waited for Cassie's answer.

Not top two. Not top two. Not top two. Not top—

Cissie let her lips stretch into a wolfish grin before asking, "Who says you made the cut?"

Oh. Somehow the idea of Kon not making it onto the list at all was more offensive than the idea of Superboy ranking above Tim Drake.

Kon's mouth dropped open comedically wide. He looked at the girls in shock and cried out, "I didn't make your hot-guy list?"

"Chillax, Super-Baby," Cassie chided as she laughed before wriggling her eyebrows and teasing, "You made the top ten."

"Top ten?" Kon reeled back in offense, "This Jim dude makes top three and I make top ten?"

That would've felt more satisfying if Kon could be bothered with remembering his name. Not that he would know it was his name, of course. Ugh, not that any of this mattered.

"Tim," Cissie corrects and the same time Cassie insists once again, "Top four."

Kon is already making his way over to Bart and reaching for the phone, ordering, "Lemme see this guy."

Tim really did not have to be around to hear what Kon thought about the attractiveness of Tim Drake.

"Him?" Kon exclaimed, "He's scrawny as shit!"

Maybe Tim could "accidentally" hit a distress beacon. Maybe he could "accidentally" issue a mandatory evacuation of the premises. Maybe he could "accidentally" throw a sharp piece of kryptonite at the back of Kon's head.

"He's in baggy clothes," Cissie defended, "It's called style."

"That is not style," Kon pointed at the phone Bart was holding between gesturing to himself and proudly announcing, "This is style."

"You're just jealous because you think he outranks you," Cassie pointed out.

"Wait," Kon asked, "Where in the top ten am I?"

The girls giggled while Bart immediately flushed red.

"Where in the top ten am I?" Kon asked a little more urgently.

Ding!

It was Dick, checking in. A simple "How's things?" text.

Thank fuck!

"I gotta head back to Gotham," Tim called. He shook his communicator as he stood up, pretending that his recent message was actually a call back home.

"What?" Kon asked, "No, Robbie, you gotta help me get the girls to show me their list."

Tim took a moment to look at his friends. They were being absolutely ridiculous. All of this was such nonsensical bullshit. It was objectifying and dumb and totally having skewed results. Tim wouldn't admit that to any of them, though.

Instead he let his eyes drag up and down Kon, obviously taking in the sight of muscles decorated in leather. Dark hair that looked just long enough to be able to tangle fingers into. Inpentitrable skin which was practically begging to be bitten yet left unbruised. He was gorgeous, not that Tim would ever admit that either. He made a point to let his gaze linger long enough that there was no way Kon missed it before turning over to Cassie and asking with a smirk, "Top ten? You sure SB's not top fifteen?"

Kon's face fell as he gawked at Robin. The girls fell into another hysterical fit of giggles while Bart called out a cheerful, "See you later, Rob!"

Tim gave him a tight-lipped smile in response before turning and walking out of that room. Holy shit, he hoped he never had to sit through a conversation like that again.

…Although he may need to playback some security cameras in order to figure out who the girls ranked in the top two of their list.

He never did end up finding out who the girls ranked above him on their young hot celebrities list. The conversation left Tim's mind.

Okay, more accurately, Tim forced himself to never think about that awful conversation again. Of course, it would cross his mind, he would just force the memory right back out of his mind.

He'd force himself not to think of his friends arguing where he'd land on an attractiveness scale. He'd force himself not to wonder who else was on the list, who he outranked and who outranked him. He'd force himself not to frown at the memory of Kon calling him "scrawny" and saying he didn't have style.

That part hurt more than the rest.

Whatever. Kon was a jealous asshole at the best of times, a flat out arrogant jackass at the worst. He was still Tim's best friend.

Only, he wasn't, was he? He was Robin's best friend. He thought that Tim was a weak-ass loser.

Whatever!

It didn't matter. It shouldn't matter. It wouldn't matter, as long as Tim stopped fucking thinking about it.

It was hard not to think about Kon in general, but even more so as Tim was walking about Metropolis. He was surrounded by newspaper after street poster after coffeehouse special that reminded him he was in Superman's home base, how could Tim not be thinking about Superboy? What he should have been doing was taking stock of his surroundings, though, because he didn't see the robbers enter the bank until their guns were already drawn.

Shit.

It wasn't like Tim could've done much, anyway. It would've been odd to have Robin show up in the middle of the day in a city that very much wasn't Gotham, but Tim still felt the need to try to do something. He was rooted in place, though, that same bone-deep fear of his identity being found out stopping him from directly fighting back. He needed to be smart about this.

Tim took a moment to think "what would Bruce do?" before he pouted and glared at the thought. This was all Bruce's fault anyway. The old man took Tim on a "field trip" out of town for the sake of who-knows-why.

…It couldn't just be to spend more time with Tim outside of masks, could it?

No. Probably not. Because while Tim and Bruce might be spending the day together with travel time, with their plans for dinner, with the walk around the city they took when they first arrived, Bruce had still sent Tim off to do some errands for him while Bruce himself showed face as the owner of the Daily Planet. So it was probably just practical to divide his chores out of town between himself and Tim as his buisness partner. Even less than a family friend. This definitely wasn't some attempt at weird bonding time.

Whatever the reason why, Tim had to deal with the fact he was stuck in this situation now. He had a fairly expensive watch on. Not to mention his shoes. His sneakers were pricey, if you knew the signs to look for. And while his clothes hung loose over his frame they were oversized in the high-brand way, not the hand-me-downs way. He could make himself a main target here. Even if the robbers didn't recognize Tim Drake, they'd be able to recognize expensive. The more of their attention he kept on himself, the less of a threat pointed towards other people.

Tim knew how to handle himself better than anyone else in this bank would've. He had to be the hostage these assholes focused on.

"Hey, genius," Tim asked the masked man with a gun who was standing just a few feet away from him, "Are you lost or something?"

He was already on his knees, arms raised in annoyed compliance as he followed the robbers' orders, but now the barrel of a gun was pointed square at him.

"Shut up!" Was the masked man's order.

"I'm just saying," Tim pressed on anyway, raising his arms a little higher in surrender, "I didn't think people still tried to rob banks in Superman's home city."

"I said shut-"

"That's a nice watch," A second masked robber took notice of Tim. The way he raised his arms had his sleeve fall down just enough to show off the watchband's metallic shine.

"Shoes," A third masked robber whispered to the second, nodding their head to gesture at Tim's feet.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

"This old thing?" Tim let out a laugh, willing himself to sound a little nervous, "It's nothing."

"Then you shouldn't mind handing it over," The first robber said.

"Well," Tim tried to stall how long before things got overtly violent. This is Metropolis for crying out loud. The man of steel was fast enough to be here by now. Tim swallowed down the natural nerves that arose from having a gun locked onto him as he continued to keep the robbers' attention focused his way, "It's not nothing-nothing. It's got, like, sentimental value."

"The watch," The first robber demanded, pressing his gun right into Tim's ribs.

Then, finally, a whoosh went by and the gun was off of Tim's chest, the armed man carried away. Tim looked across the room, expecting to see Superman himself flying intimidatingly over the robbers and doing his whole "symbol of hope" routine.

What he saw was not the man of steel.

"Time for you to get a new job, huh?" Kon —Kon!— was telling the robber as he easily disarmed him. Tim watched as the robber was tied with his hands behind his back and the gun's magazine was dislodged and discarded onto the floor. Kon moved with such speed that the tasks carried out seemed instantaneous.

Where was this efficiency two missions ago when Kon kept mouthing back against Tim's orders? Actually, who cares? Tim wanted to see more and more of that competency, not dwell on the times he hadn't been able to.

"It's Superboy!" The second robber called out, he moved to aim his gun at Kon but Kon was already faster.

"Really? Where?" He asked as he began to disarm and detain the second robber in the same way as the first, "Man, I'd love to ask for an autograph."

The third robber, probably the smartest out of the three, dropped his gun and began running towards the door.

He wasn't fast enough to beat Kon, though.

"Ooh, not so fast," Kon hissed through his teeth in false sympathy as he grabbed the third and final robber. He tied the helpless robber up and brought him over to the other two while a proud statement of, "There we go."

Then, Kon turned to the room at large and asked, "Is everyone okay?"

Small, shy murmurs of agreement preceded a tentative clap or two. Then another clap joined. Pretty soon the whole room was encompassed in a round of applause while Kon smiled and waved at the crowd.

He looked so happy.

Asshole, Tim thought, instead of focusing on the warm feeling he felt as he took in the sight of Kon's beaming grin, He could at least start helping people up instead of just standing there.

Tim picked himself up and brushed off the wrinkles on his shirt left behind by the gun pressing into him. Then, he turned to the woman who was next to him —She was older, maybe reaching late 60's— and offered her a hand up as well.

"Oh, thank you, boy," The woman said as she accepted his hand, "Though, I must say. You talked yourself into quite a bit of trouble there."

Tim flashed her a reassuring smile and explained, "I'm from Gotham. These types of things don't feel like as big of a deal after you've dealt with a couple of them."

"That sounds like a dangerous mindset," She gave him a slightly judgmental look.

"Well, like I said, I live in Gotham," Tim gave her his best attempt at a charming smile before he asked, "What's a Gothamite without a knack for danger?"

She didn't answer, not even to shake her head disapprovingly, because she caught sight of something behind Tim and her eyes positively lit up.

"Superboy!" She greeted with a smile, "Thank you so much."

Shit. Okay. Play it cool.

Kon had no idea who Tim was. That fact was something Tim had put in a hell of a lot of time and effort to ensuring. That fact had no reason to hurt.

"Just doing my job," Kon responded with another proud smile. Tim had to fight back the urge to roll his eyes as he watched Kon ask too-sweetly, "Are you alright, ma'am?"

"Ma'am?" The woman took a step back in offense, "How old do you think I am?"

"Uh…" Kon visibly floundered and Tim had to quickly cover his snort with a cough. The sound seemed to catch his teammate's attention.

It wasn't clear if Kon was genuinely concerned or just taking advantage of the chance to avoid the old lady's question. Either way, he turned to Tim and asked, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Tim took a step back and kept his eyes downcast. He was just hoping for Kon to not look at him too hard.

"Did I make you loose your breath?" Kon asked, Tim didn't need to be looking at him to hear the cheeky smirk Kon was wearing, "I tend to have that effect on people."

Hold up.

Full stop.

Was that Kon trying to flirt? In, like, a weird, self absorbed, over confident way…

Tim looked up and sure enough Kon was wearing a very specific kind of smile. A cocky, sure-of-himself, smirking grin. But then Kon looked into Tim's eyes and suddenly a flicker of confusion crossed Kon's eyes.

"Do I know you?" Superboy asked.

Shit!

"You know me?" Tim decided to act flattered as he looked up at Kon with carefully crafted wide eyes, "I didn't realize Superboy would know who I am."

Kon's brows furrowed further as he began to ask, "How do I-"

"Tim Drake," Tim introduced himself, sticking out a hand, "As in Drake Industries. Or Drake Medical Inc. Or-"

"You are Tim Drake!" Kon cut him off. Suddenly, the eyes washing over Tim felt studying. The handshake was lasting clearly too long but Kon didn't seem to be letting him go any time soon.

Tim let the shake remain suspended between them for about ten more increasingly uncomfortable seconds before he pulled back his hand and used it to run his fingers through his hair, taking a half-step back from Kon and confirming, "Uh, yeah. The one and only."

"Aren't you from Gotham?" Kon asked. His eyes were trained on Tim's raised arm, watching it bend as Tim started to scratch the back of his neck. He was probably thinking of how scrawny Tim looked in real life.

"So he's said," The older woman answered for Tim, eyes looking back and forth between the two boys. He felt his cheeks flush hot.

Fuck, he needed to slow his breathing. His heartbeat was beginning to feel out of control. He was so out of it, so focused on Kon in front of him, he hadn't even realized the fact that Metropolis Police Officers were already in the bank, placing handcuffs on the robbers Kon had apprehended. He didn't realize the other man who had already entered the bank despite not having authorization to step into an active crime scene.

"Tim!" Bruce called out, rushing up to Tim but slowing when he looked and saw Kon, "…And Superboy?"

"Superboy stopped the robbery," Tim explained to Bruce, forcing a layer of awe that would come across like adoration from a fan, "I was just thanking him. He saved us all."

Tim grinned openly and earnestly over to Kon. It was so embarrassing, but what else was Tim supposed to do? He needed to ham up his reaction to being saved by a superhero in order to avoid drawing suspicion. Kon already thought Tim Drake was a loser, anyway.

"Oh," Kon blinked at Tim in surprise, "Uh…"

"Well, isn't that something?" Bruce cut in, taking Tim under his arm and chiding, "I can't take you anywhere without you finding trouble, huh? Thank the nice hero, Timmy."

Tim suppressed the urge to wince at Bruce's overly-happy persona as he let himself be pulled out of the bank. Still, he called over his shoulder for good measure, "Thanks again, Superboy!"

It wasn't until they were in a car and a few blocks away that Bruce turned back to Tim and asked, "What happened?"

"Three armed robbers attempted to-"

"No, I know what happened," Bruce dismissed, "I mean why didn't you fight? Were you hurt?"

Tim scoffed, "No, I'm not hurt. I just didn't exactly have my Robin suit on."

"Tim-" Bruce started, but Tim really wasn't in the mood for an always-be-prepared lecture.

"I kept their focus on me," Tim explained.

Bruce made a choked sound and asked, "You what?"

"I made myself the best target for the robbers to stall for time until Superman, or Superboy I guess, showed up and handled the situation," Tim elaborated. Hadn't that been the obvious play?

"They didn't hurt you?" Bruce asked yet again. Honestly, Tim was starting to feel properly offended.

"No," He repeated with an eye roll, "Now, are we good to head back to Gotham?"

"We still have those dinner reservations," Bruce reminded Tim.

"Do we need to?"

"Don't worry," Bruce instructed, though the ghost of a smile he began to wear made Tim begin to feel very worried, "I think you'll enjoy it "

"Mr. Wayne! It's great to see you again," Clark Kent —the Clark Kent, Superman, him— greeted Bruce with a crisp handshake as he and Tim made his way inside the restaurant.

What the fuck?

"You must be Tim," Superman, Clark, continued without missing a beat. He held out his hand towards Tim who accepted it on muscle memory and social training alone.

"It's nice to meet you," Tim stated, though his voice didn't sound half as confident as he intended it to. He wasn't even intimidated, he was just caught up in thinking the repeated question what the fuck is going on?

"Oh, did I forget to mention?" Bruce feigned a smack to his forehead as he grinned down at Tim's confused expression, "Tim, this is Clark Kent. He's one of those news makers at the Daily Planet."

"Journalist," Clark corrected.

Tim nodded, taking a moment to look between Bruce and Clark. He didn't like being the only one who didn't know what was going on. Time to make the old guys sweat.

"Superman," Tim said confidently, sending a smile Clark's way.

Bruce's eyes went wide and Clark began to frantically look around the very public space that Tim was speaking very openly in. He nervously laughed and asked, "What?"

"You're the Superman guy, aren't you?" Tim tilted his head to the side and blinked up at Clark in faux-innocence as he questioned, "Don't you have all those interviews with him?"

"Oh!" Clark cleared his throat, "Yes! Uh, yes, that's me."

His voice was taking on a more guarded edge towards the end, a bit of a warning in his tone that Tim had to swallow down his smile at. Behind Clark, somebody didn't swallow down his snort.

It was a familiar sort of snort, one that sounded almost like…

Oh.

Kon. Only it wasn't Kon, not really. Standing behind Clark was Conner Kent.

Fuck, he looks so good when he's not wearing those stupid fucking sunglasses.

Conner was in a simple black t-shirt and faded jeans. It was odd to see him so dressed down. Hell, it was odd to see him here at all.

Tim should probably stop staring. Kon shifted uncomfortably under his gaze while clearing his throat.

"Tim, this is Conner," Clark said with a smile as he pulled Kon to be standing next to him instead of behind, "Mr. Wayne and I figured you boys could keep each other company over dinner while we finish talking shop."

Tim began to protest, "Oh, I don't-"

"How many times have I told you to call me Bruce?" Bruce asked Clark, interrupting Tim as he walked further into the restaurant before calling over his shoulder, "You boys get whatever you'd like, the bill is on me."

What the fuck?

"I can show you to your table," A young hostess began to guide Tim and Kon in the opposite direction.

What the ever loving fuck was going on?

Before Tim could get a solid answer he found himself sitting at a table for two, dining with Conner Kent. Kon-El. Tim's best friend, who didn't know his longtime partner and teammate was at the seat across from him.

What the fuck was Bruce doing?

"Um…" Kon shifted awkwardly in his seat, "Hi."

"Hi," Tim nodded back stiffly. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Conner didn't know Tim was Robin. Hell, Conner didn't even know Tim. Fuck, that was a good point. He should probably start with an introduction.

"I'm Tim."

"I know," Conner nodded. Then he grimaced at himself and doubled back, "I mean, Clark said so earlier."

"Right," Tim agreed, cringing at himself a bit.

"I'm Conner," Kon offered.

"I know," Tim had the chance to repeat.

Kon blinked back in genuine confusion. Idiot. He let his mouth fall open and his eyebrows furrowed together before he asked, "You do?"

"Clark, uh, introduced you," Tim reminded him.

The sight of a faint blush stretching across Kon's tanned cheeks would never fail to make Tim's heart skip a beat.

Fuck.

Kon could hear Tim's heart. He needed to calm down.

"Right," Kon offered, voice tight. He opened his mouth as if to continue speaking but then closed it. Then he repeated the action for a second time. Then a third. Finally, he let out a sigh and asked, "So, this is weird, right?"

Idiot.

Tim couldn't help but smile. He could have a bit of fun with this, probably.

"What do you mean?" Tim asked Kon, blinking as if he was confused.

"This whole… this," Kon gestured around them at the dining room around them.

"You think it's weird to go out to dinner?" Tim asked.

"No, but I mean… like… the circumstances."

"It's six in the evening," Tim feigned confusion while he glanced at his watch, "This seems like a reasonable dinner hour to me."

"No, but…" Kon trailed off again.

"But?" Tim prompted.

"Nothing, never mind," Kon said as he folded his arms across his chest. He was doing his best not to cast skeptical looks Tim's way.

Tim didn't know if he wanted to laugh or roll his eyes. He had already known Kon thought the persona of Tim Drake was a loser, but how socially inept did Kon think he was?

"Dude," Tim sent a flat look Kon's way and waited for his unknowing friend to meet his eye before explaining, "I'm messing with you. This is… one of the weirder things Bruce has ever done."

"Oh," Kon laughed in what seemed like awkward relief before asking, "Are you two close?"

"Yeah, we're…"

Family friends. The label was on the tip of Tim's tongue, but he could quite bring himself to say it. It felt just a syllable too long still. He shook his head and decided to redirect instead, "What about you and Clark?"

"Oh, he's my… uh… uncle. I guess," Kon forced the words out. Tim's never seen his friend quite so nervous. He's never seen his friend quite so clearly, either. No mask in the way, no contacts in, just Tim's blue eyes looking into Kon's. Has Kon always been this big on eye contact?

Probably not. Who would bother with a mask between them?

"You guess?" Tim let himself push for just a bit. Kon didn't raise to it, offering nothing more than a shrug as a casual confirmation. A beat of silence stretched between them until Tim offered, "He seemed nice."

"Yeah, he's pretty alright," Conner agreed. Another uncomfortable silence fell between them until Kon cleared his throat to speak again, "So… What brings you to Metropolis?"

"Tagged along with Bruce," Tim offered with a shrug, "Just running errands, really."

"Oh," Kon was tense in his seat, apprehensive or maybe excited as he asked, "What kind of errands?"

"Oh, you know," Tim tossed a hand to the side dismissively, "Boring stuff. Business stuff. Bank stuff."

"Bank stuff?" Kon repeated before oh-so-casually commenting, "I heard that Superboy stopped a bank robbery around here today."

Tim pretended to be bored and confused, "Did he?"

"You didn't know?" Kon sent Tim a skeptical look.

How the hell was he so easy to mess with? Biting back the urge to smile at his friend's pouty confusion, Tim leaned across the table and sent Kon a smirk as he glanced around the room as if to check if anyone were listening in. Then, with a whisper and a wink he told Kon, "I was there."

"Really?" Kon asked. The idiot was grinning now, a familiar pride shining in his eyes that would be easily enough mistaken for excitement if Tim didn't know any better. But Tim did know better, so he recognized Kon's question as fishing for compliments when the other asked, "What, uh, what was he like?"

Tim leaned back again and gave an impassive shrug as he answered, "He was alright."

"Alright?" Kon echoed back, clearly expecting more than that.

"Yeah, not too bad," Tim said while picking at the tablecloth, "He insulted some old lady to her face, though."

"Insulted!" Kon exclaimed at a volume and intensely offended tone that didn't quite fit the restaurant they were in.

Tim didn't miss a beat. He kissed his teeth and shook his head before lamented, "Never call an older woman 'ma'am.'"

"It's polite!" Kon argued.

"She didn't think so," Tim said with another casual shrug.

"But-"

"I take it you're a fan, then," Tim interrupted, "Of Superboy, I mean."

"Well, who wouldn't be a fan," Kon shot back defensively.

Tim gave his friend a teasing grin as he responded, "I can think of at least one older woman."

Kon scowled a bit before accusing, "You're playing it cool but I bet you loved being saved by Superboy."

"I mean, it's Superman's city," Tim said, just to be difficult, "It would've been cool to be saved by him."

"Are you serious?" Kon asked, more offended than ever.

And Kon already didn't like Tim Drake, Tim knew that, but there was a nagging part of himself that was a little desperate for his friend to like him—this carefully curated version of himself—anyway. So, instead of continuing his fun and leaning further into the bit, Tim receded.

He gave Kon a small smile and answered, "Nah, I'm messing with you again. Superboy is pretty cool."

"Oh," Kon actually looked surprised for a moment before he recovered, "I mean, yeah. He is."

"Whatever you say, super-fan," Tim responded lightly.

Kon flushed that gorgeous blush again as he tried to correct, "Now I wouldn't say I'm a super-fan, I just-"

"Good evening gentlemen," A server came over and interrupted Kon, "Are we all set with a drink order yet?"

It was still only the start of the meal. Hell, they hadn't even ordered the meal yet. But, somehow, Tim was already enjoying himself. He shouldn't really be too shocked, he always had fun when he was spending time with Kon, but this was different than being on missions or hanging out at the cave. This wasn't longtime friends Robin and Superboy, this was Tim Drake and Conner Kent, meeting for the first time.

Tim had no idea what Bruce was up to, but he wouldn't be getting any answers soon. He just had to get through this dinner. At least there was a decent chance that he'd enjoy it.

Tim did enjoy his dinner. The food was great, but the company even nicer. He and Kon —he and Conner— fell easily into a flow of conversation. There was a familiar layer of banter, sarcasm, and teasing that made it easy as ever for Tim to spend time with his friend.

However, despite the good mood he experienced over the course of his dinner Tim immediately threw a pissed-off glare Bruce's way when they began the trek home to Gotham. He demanded the answer, "What the hell was that?"

"I think it's fairly obvious," Bruce sent Tim an unimpressed look.

"Well it's not!" Tim snapped, "You send me into a bank robbery and then-"

"The bank robbery was not part of the plan," Bruce growled lowly.

"But the dinner was?" Tim asked in exasperation.

Bruce shifted awkwardly in his seat before he said, "You expressed concern over maintaining your identity as Tim Drake around your other teammates."

"What?" Tim furrowed his eyebrows in confusion before his expression widened in realization. Then, he began to vehemently protest, "No! I meant I felt awkward as Robin when the others started talking about Tim Drake."

"But why would they talk about Tim Drake?"

"I don't know, Bruce," Tim threw his hands to the side in frustration, "Why would you assume Tim Drake would ever naturally cross paths with any of my teammates."

"You technically crossed paths with Superboy twice today," Bruce pointed out.

"Oh, that does not count," Tim insisted before elaborating, "The dinner was artificially arranged by you. And I'm willing to bet neither me or Kon would've been in that bank if it weren't for you and Clark calling us into Metropolis."

"Well," Bruce reflected, "I suppose it's a good thing we set up the dinner. Who knows what would've happened at the bank if-"

"Bruce!" Tim snapped, "Why did you set this up? Why did you spring this on me?"

Bruce let out a sigh before he turned to Tim with an awkward expression and reported back, "I was under the assumption you were closest with Superboy. I figured he would be the most comfortable teammate to use to build your confidence in being Tim Drake around those who know you as Robin."

"So this whole trip was just a training exercise," Tim scoffed as he crossed his arms over his chest and sat back in his seat. Somehow that was worse than being a business trip.

"It wasn't just-" Bruce cut himself off abruptly. Then, he let out a heavy sigh and with a nod to himself said, "Next time we spend the day together I will keep both training and work out of it."

"Next time?"

Bruce looked over at Tim once again before tentatively explaining, "I know I'm not the best at the whole… social side of family bonding."

"What?" Tim could feel his heart thudding harder in his chest and he said a silent thank you to the fact that Kon was no longer around to hear it.

"Dick assured me that the dinner was a good idea," Bruce continued, almost mumbling to himself.

Tim felt his cheeks flush red as he exclaimed, "Dick helped set this up?"

"Never mind that," Bruce dismissed, "Next time we'll keep it simple. Just the two of us, yeah?"

"I-"

Tim blinked to himself.

Next time.

Family bonding.

Family.

"Yeah, uh," Tim cleared his throat, "That sounds nice."

And it did sound nice, but so did planning throttle Dick the next time Tim saw him. Tim devoted the rest of the ride back to Gotham plotting various ways he could slap the smile off of his brother's face.

"Top three," Kon declared as he strolled up thirteen minutes late to training with Young Justice.

Tim, Cassie, Cissie, and Bart were already stretching on the gym mats. Kon didn't even bother saying hello, just got straight to spewing nonsense.

"What?" Cassie asked, barely bothering to look up at Kon's strange greeting.

"Your hot guy list," Kon clarified, immediately grabbing the attention of everyone in the room before he even fully explained, "I'm with Cissie now. That Tim Drake guy? Definitely top three material."

Tim had to focus extra hard on not suddenly choking on his own saliva. Everyone else seemed to lean forward with interested enthusiasm.

Cissie was smirking as she went to ask, "This wouldn't have anything to do with Superboy's recent save in Metropolis, would it?"

Cassie immediately cheered, "Oh, I knew that was Tim Drake in the background of that picture!"

"Wait," Bart shook his head in confusion, "What happened?"

"SB met Tim Drake at a bank robbery," Cissie filled in the blanks before embellishing with a sing-songy tease, "And then fell in love."

"I did not-!" Kon took a breath to calm down before he actually clarified, "Yes, I met him. And after meeting him, I'd like to change my vote."

Cassie gave a laugh before asking, "You're actually serious?"

"Well, obviously I still deserve the top spot on the list," Kon began. He ignored the girls protesting that he was never the top spot to begin with and continued on, "And he might not quite be second-best to me, but he's definitely worthy of a top three spot."

Tim wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel flattered or offended. Mostly, he just felt sick. God, this conversation was already so much worse than last time.

"Did you even talk to him?" Cassie asked.

"He's funny," Kon described instead of giving a straight answer, "Quick with his jokes. Cissie was right. He's, like, grounded."

The slower Tim breathes the lower his heart rate, the slower he breathes the less he blushes.

"He's got a nice heartbeat," Kon added on as an afterthought.

The only reason Tim's heart didn't palpitate was due to the fact he was already engaged in breathing exercises. That was possibly the most wonderful compliment that he's ever recieved. Kon liked his heartbeat. Kon liked—

No. Kon liked Tim Drake's heartbeat. Allegedly. But Kon never said shit about Robin's, which Tim happened to know beat exactly the same.

At that thought Tim rolled his eyes and said, "Most heartbeats do not sound unique."

Kon immediately argued back, "Yes, they do when you're used to hearing them all the time."

This wasn't the first time they've had this conversation. It likely would not be the last. Tim brought back an old threat, "I am going to buy a stethoscope and prove to you-"

"Well, I still say he should be in fourth place," Cassie cut off Tim and Kon's bickering to unfortunately return to the debate over where Tim Drake falls on a list of hot people. Then she turned to Tim and asked, "What do you say, Rob? Wanna be the tiebreaker?"

Tim wanted absolutely nothing to do with this conversation actually.

"I think the tie is broken," Tim pointed out diplomatically, "Considering the votes are three to one."

"Oh, come on," Cassie complained, "You're the only one who hadn't weighed in yet."

"Yeah, Rob," Kon encouraged, "You're the one from Gotham. What are your thoughts on Tim?"

"You and Tim are on a first-name basis?" Robin asked, deflecting and redirecting the conversation back onto Kon. Unfortunately, Kon didn't flinch at the challenge.

"Why, jealous?" Kon asked with a smirk.

Tim rolled his eyes and simply stated, "I'm just surprised. Thought Tim Drake was too 'scrawny' or something."

"Must've been an old picture," Kon reasoned before continuing, "The guy's got muscles. I mean, he's not sculpted or anything. But he's… toned."

His voice sounded a little tight by the end of it.

"Toned?" Tim asked flatly.

"Yeah, you know…" Kon trailed off before he gestured to Tim and repeated in a stronger tone, "You know."

Tim very much did not know. What was Kon on? There wasn't any Red Kryptonite around, was there?

Bart let out a snort and the girls dissolved into hysterical giggles.

"Alright, yuck it up," Kon rolled his eyes before declaring, "You're all just jealous I got to meet the third-hottest celebrity."

"We capped the ages on the list at 23," Cassie pointed out.

Cissie nodded and added on the argument, "And didn't even start adding girls yet."

Kon just pouted and folded his arms over his chest. The rest of the group fell into a round of hysterical giggles at the sight of him. All but Tim, of course, who just wanted this conversation to be over with, once and for all.

"Okay," He clapped his hands together to gather all their attention, "Now that everyone's here, can we get to training."

A chorus of groans and complaints echoed throughout the cave. None sounded half as miserable as Tim had felt listening to his friends unknowingly talk about how hot (or not) he is in front of him. He sent a prayer to whoever would listen that this would be the last time the subject of Tim Drake's hottness came up around the team. Especially if Kon was around.

Tim was cursed. Or hexed. Or plagued with misfortune. There was something going on behind the scenes because that was not the last time Kon talked about Tim Drake. In fact, Kon began talking about him all the time.

There were passing contemplations like "I wonder if he wears contacts or if his eyes are naturally that blue" and "He's actually taller than he looks in pictures. I mean, still shorter than me, but taller than you'd think."

There were comments that showed signs of internet stalking like, "Did you know he skateboards?" and "You know he listens to rock? How cool is that?"

There were Gotham-specific questions that always went directly to Tim like "You'd think he'd be kidnapped more considering how rich he is" and "Are you sure you've never had to save him before?"

There was teasing by the rest of their friends. Cassie would follow all the gossip pages just for a chance of announcing, "Tim Drake got a new haircut. I put twenty bucks on Kon bringing it up within ten minutes" leading Bart to snap back, "No way, I bet less than five!"

All in all, it was exhausting to listen to constantly. Tim Drake this, Tim Drake that. It was annoying as all hell to feel jealous of himself, but how could he help it when Tim Drake held all of Kon's attention despite Robin being right in front of him.

Tim Drake is so cool. Sure, whatever, not as cool as Robin!

Tim Drake can skate. Robin can skate and drive and do a gymnastic trick or two. Maybe not as fancy as Dick's acrobatics, but still impressive nonetheless.

Tim Drake donates to charity. Big whoop, he's got money to burn. It's his work as Robin that actually helps people.

Kon likes Tim Drake so fucking much, in a way that he could never like Robin, and it hurt more than anything else Tim has ever experienced. It was an emotional-based pain. The knowledge that he wasn't good enough, not the whole of him. Even his best friend, the person Tim held the deepest feelings for in his whole life, preferred one part of him over the other. It wasn't even the part of himself that Tim wanted Kon to prefer.

It hurt to hear all the comments and be reminded again and again and again that he wasn't good enough for Kon. Not as Robin. Not as the part of himself he's been trying to get Kon to take interest in for months at this point.

It came to a head one day when Tim was running on even less sleep than normal. He was already irritable and fighting off a headache while trying to focus on the bright-as-fuck computer screen in front of him while Kon was hovering over his shoulder. It was just the two of them in the room, but Kon was rambling despite Tim's need to focus. Talking, of course, about Tim Drake and honestly Tim couldn't take it anymore.

"If you're that obsessed with him why don't you just ask him out?"

Tim regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. That was, quite possibly, the worst thing Tim could've said. Not only would it be a terrible idea because Tim couldn't ethically date Kon without Kon knowing who he was dating, he also didn't want to date Kon and pretend that he was starting fresh. It made him feel sick to imagine needing to ignore the years of friendship and fieldwork that they already hold under their belts.

Plus…

"He's a guy," Kon said awkwardly, finally breaking the silence between them.

Plus that. Kon was straight. He wouldn't ask either Robin or Tim Drake on a date because both versions of Tim were guys and Kon was straight.

"Right, sorry," Tim cleared his throat before awkwardly apologizing once more, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped I just…"

"You didn't sleep well," Kon observed.

"Yeah," Tim didn't even bother trying to deny it. His energy was too focused on trying to shake himself out of the awkward energy that now danced tensely between him and Kon. Maybe Kon would dismiss himself. Maybe Tim should try and leave. Maybe-

"Would it be okay?" Kon suddenly broke the silence between them again. He sounded nearly shy —which wasn't right. Kon never acted shy— when he clarified, "If I asked out a guy?"

Oh.

Oh.

Maybe Kon wasn't straight after all. Maybe Kon actually liked… He liked Tim Drake but he didn't like Robin. Not like that. Not in the way that Tim wanted him to. Fuck, this sucked, but Kon was sitting just a little too stiff to maintain the idea of this being a casual conversation between them. What was Tim supposed to do? Shut him down after he had just soft launched coming out?

"Do you want to ask him out?" Tim offered up the question as a neutrality. Maybe all the recent teasings of their teammates had gotten into Kon's head. Maybe Kon was only contemplating it because he felt like that's what he's supposed to do.

"I don't know, Rob," Kon admitted with a sigh before listing off, "He's just… He's different. Smart, grounded, with the most beautiful eyes…"

"You met him, like, once," Tim reminded his friend.

Kon's voice grew gentle as he sheepishly admitted, "I kinda can't get him out of my head."

Yeah. Tim had noticed. This would've been so much easier if Kon had been crushing on anyone other than Tim himself. Part of himself, at least. Not the whole of him. God, why couldn't Kon want the whole of Tim?

Tim swallowed down the thick, suffocating emotions he felt rising in his throat and decided on giving another relatively neutral —yet this time more supportive— statement, "It's okay to like guys."

"I know," Kon nodded, "But I used to have that thing with Cassie. And there was also-"

"It's okay to like girls and guys," Tim interrupted Kon before he could spiral too much.

Kon looked cautiously optimistic as he asked, "Is that really a thing?"

Tim sent him a flat look and began listing off various labels, "Bisexual, pansexual, queer…" Then, he swallowed. Kon was showing a lot of vulnerability right now. Maybe Tim could give him some back. He continued on speaking, "Some people put a lot of pressure on a label. I like bi, personally, but I don't think what word you like to call yourself matters as much as some people say."

Kon blinked owlishly at Tim and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well, some people really emphasize a strict definition for labels and-"

"No, no. I get that part," Kon shook his head as he spoke, "Who needs a label as long as you're happy, right?"

Tim nodded. That was his point, yes.

"I meant what do you mean you prefer bi?" Kon asked.

Oh boy. Here we go.

Tim took a deep breath and then answered in an almost clinical tone, the same voice he would use for a status report or a mission debrief, "Bisexual. Girls and guys. I like who I like."

"Oh."

Kon was staring. Tim didn't really like the fact he was being stared at.

Shit.

How loud was his heart right now? When did he let it get so fast?

"Yeah," Tim awkwardly responded.

"So…" Kon shifted a little strangely before he asked half of a question, "If I liked a guy…?"

"You don't need my permission to experience emotions," Tim stated flatly.

"Right," Kon nodded but then peeked an eye over and asked, "You think I should ask out Tim?"

Tim. Not Robin. Him, but also not. This was so, so close to everything Tim's ever wanted, and yet it was no where near to being enough.

"Do you want to ask out Tim?" He asked his friend, ignoring the pain swirling in his chest. There was no good answer here. Kon either said yes and Tim had to confront the fact that only part of him is worth deeper affections or he says no and Tim needs to accept no part of him is worth Kon's deeper affections at all.

But Kon doesn't end up answering at all. Instead, he asks another question, "Is there a reason I shouldn't?"

There's something real shining in his irises as he asks. His gaze is searching, locked onto Tim, and Tim just wished he knew what the hell Kon was looking for.

"Besides the inherent risks of dating a civilian?" Tim offers a little dryly.

"Superman is with a civilian," Kon argues, "They make it work."

"Lois doesn't count."

"Sure she does."

"Kon." Tim bristled a little defensively and observed, "It sounds like this is already something you want to do."

Kon, still with that searching look in his eyes, asked, "Are you going to tell me not to?"

Tim should. Tim should come up with a million ways that this is the worst possible idea. He should really, really, tell Kon not to do this. But his best friend just came out to him, and Tim didn't have the heart or soul to make it seem like asking out a boy wouldn't be okay. Kon looked so fucking nervous, so fucking vulnerable, that when Tim opened his mouth the words that came out were, "The worst he can say is no."

"Right…" Kon swallowed. He looked almost disappointed.

Fuck, had Tim said the wrong thing? Obviously, he had, but did Kon take it the wrong way? In a last ditch attempt at bringing the light of confidence back into Kon's eyes —and because Tim didn't seem to ever be able to just shut up when he needed to— he sent Kon a small smile and added, "But you're Superboy. Who could say no to you?"

Kon gave a laugh that almost sounded a little bitter. Tim was about to ask what was wrong but Kon was already shaking his head and saying, "Thanks, Rob."

Tim didn't feel like he had done anything that was particularly worthy of thanks.

"I'm gonna head out," Kon said as he floated over to the door, "Get some sleep tonight, yeah?"

"I'll try-" Tim tried to respond, but Kon was already out the door.

Weird.

Tim tried to ignore the cocktail of dread and insecurity the pooled in his chest and moved to refocus on the screen in front of him. After five minutes straight of rereading the same sentence again and again without retaining it's meaning at all he powered the whole system down and turned to leave as well.

God, he was such a fucking idiot.

Tim had been hoping for more time to prepare. He had hoped that he would cross paths with Kon again as Robin before he crossed paths with Kon as Tim. He had hoped that if Kon decided to do something as stupid as asking Tim Drake out, he would have the sense to do it as Conner Kent instead of Superboy. He had hoped he'd be able to brainstorm excuses to let Kon down easy before he would be asked.

He hoped for too much and was granted none of it.

Kon startled Tim —Tim Drake, not Robin— in an empty skate park Tim had been trying to decompress in for the better part of an hour. It was the peaceful hour on a weekday evening, a time where places in the city grew more empty just before things actually became dark and more dangerous. Tim expected to be alone. He didn't expect the familiar voice from behind him.

"I've been waiting for you to fall."

"Superboy!" Tim tripped a bit, stumbling off-center.

Kon used it as an excuse to rush over to Tim's side and steady him as he answered, "The one and only."

Tim pushed his friend backwards as he accused, "You tried to make me fall."

Kon whistled and held his hands up in surrender, "No, I was waiting to see if you fell," He explained, "I was hoping to catch you then segue into a 'did it hurt when you fell from heaven' type of thing."

Tim blinked at Kon. Then blinked again. Holy shit, he was actually trying to ask Tim out.

How could something Tim wanted to badly feel so fucking miserable when it was actually within reach?

"You're here," Tim said, a little numbly. God, why did Kon need to be here?

"Why?" Kon smirked and wriggled his eyebrows before he asked, "Feel like a dream yet?"

"I get a lot of nightmares," Tim said. He was trying to give off stronger off-putting vibes. Trying to sound dry and unlikeable. It should be so hard.

Kon just laughed with an easy smile, as if Tim was being endearing, and remarked, "You're a weird dude, you know that?"

"Gee," Tim said flatly, "Thanks."

"Hey, come on now," Kon lightly nudged Tim in the side as he said, "You know what I mean."

"Can't say I do," Tim replied in the same monotone way. Maybe if he seemed boring enough Kon would give up and decide to leave. All the awkwardness and Tim's pain could be spared.

"Liar," Kon snorted, unperturbed.

"Why are you here?" Tim's voice snapped back overly bitter in an effort to hide the dread.

Kon just looked at Tim with his boyish grin and asked, "Do you want to get something to eat?"

Tim knew it was coming and yet the question still short-circuited him. The instinct to say yes, to take advantage of the opportunity to spend any and all time he could in Kon's company gripped him something violent. Alongside that urge was another, one rooted in years of friendship and shooting the shit with each other. Tim felt the urge to snort and laugh at Kon's lack of a smooth transition, asking Tim out abruptly. So much for that Kryptonian charm.

But Tim didn't laugh, and he couldn't say yes. In the end all he could do was choke out the word, "What?"

"You, me, dinner," Kon listed, a smirking grin on his face. Tim had to admit his tone was taking on a suave edge as Kon winked and continued, "hopefully some conversation to go along with it?"

God, this can't be happening.

"Are you really asking me on a date?" Tim asked. He knew the answer. The answer was yes and Tim really fucking wanted the answer to be yes but at the same time he desperately needed the answer to be no.

Please, just say no.

"Uh… Yeah," Kon smiled kinda funny at Tim as he said, "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Kon nudged Tim in a tease before he echoed, "Oh."

Tim wanted to say yes so badly. For a split second he almost did. It would be so easy to just say yes. He could go on a date with Kon, spend more time with the other and take a chance to finally develop their friendship into being something more, something deeper, something Tim yearned for desperately. But Tim couldn't say yes.

"I don't…" Tim had to pause and swallow. He cleared his throat so that he could try and sound a little less choked. Hopefully his strange tone could be passed off as awkwardness as he forced out the soft rejection, "I'm not sure that's the best idea."

"It could be a friend-date," Kon suggested.

Tim cursed in his mind at the way this was being dragged out far longer than it needed as he questioned the term, "A friend-date?"

"Sure. Keep things as a bromance if you're not into a romance," Kon said with a smile, "If you're not into guys, I mean."

"I…" It was an easy excuse, but Tim still faltered, "It's not that."

Idiot. Should've taken the out.

Kon's grin beamed wider as he said, "Then it can be a friend-date until—if— you're ever ready for the more-than-friends-dates."

Dates.

Tim almost laughed. Kon already expected multiple dates, the cocky bastard. Wouldn't that have been so nice?

"I don't…" Tim shook his head and dug his fingernails into his palm a bit. He needed the slight pinch of discomfort to ground him as he forced out the words, "I don't think we should."

"Great, so-" Kon cut himself off and reeled back a step. Cocky bastard indeed. He was so fucking sure Tim would say yes, wasn't he? And yet Tim watched as Kon visibly deflated and almost as if he didn't mean to make a sound let out a soft, "Oh."

Tim felt like an asshole, making Kon feel so clearly disappointed. He felt like the shittiest person there was, rejecting his best friend who he was more than halfway in love with, making Kon frown in confusion and hurt.

"It's just… I don't even know your name and-"

"Kon-El," Kon offered, a small flicker of hope still shining in his eyes.

Tim hated that he had to extinguish it. Remorsefully, he repeated the name, "Kon-El."

Kon reached out to offer a handshake as he said, "I'm glad I could formally introduce myself to you, Tim Drake."

The sound of Kon saying Tim's name —Tim's real name— was more beautiful than Tim could put into words.

"Timothy," Tim corrected. If Kon used the full version of his kryptonian name, Tim wanted his full name stated as well. Maybe it could add a bit of distance between them, to tell Kon a name that Tim rarely was ever addressed by.

Kon, cocky and sure of himself, called Tim out on this, "But you don't go by Timothy, do you?"

"No," Tim agreed with a heavy sigh, "No, I don't."

"So, Tim, then," Kon seemed to fucking proud of himself, so flirty and confident as he tried one more time, "Could I buy you some dinner?"

Why did the asshole need to be so headstrong?

"It's really not a good idea," Tim said it a little more firmly this time. It wasn't the tease of a probable rejection anymore, the words were in the solid shape of a denial."

"Oh," Kon let out the same disappointed sound as before, only this time it was clearly sitting heavier. There was acceptance, abandonment of hope, and the awkwardness of rejection settling over Kon's stance.

"Listen, you seem really-"

"It's okay," Kon interrupted Tim with a small attempt at a smile.

"Really, I'm flattered," Tim tried to at least say something that would offer Kon back an ounce of confidence or comfort, "I just-"

"It's fine, Timothy. I'm sorry to bother you."

Ouch.

There was something so ugly in the way Kon used Tim's full first name. He never wanted to be addressed by Kon in such a dismissive manner ever again.

"Kon-"

"Superboy," Kon interrupted with the correction, "Probably makes things easier."

Tim wasn't sure what exactly the face he was making looked like. He could only send out a silent prayer that he looked more confused than hurt. Because after everything Kon had gone through to earn a name of his own, after how excited he had been to finally be more than just Superboy, Tim had never foreseen himself loosing the privilege of using his best friend's name.

He wanted to be sick.

Why couldn't Kon had fallen for Robin? Why did he need to fixate on Tim Drake instead? Why couldn't Tim just say yes?

Maybe Tim's pain at being told to call Kon Superboy didn't show as blatantly as he felt it did, or maybe Kon was just polite enough to avoid mentioning it. Regardless, he sucked in some air and plastered a tight, fake smile onto his face before he offered, "Could I at least walk you home?"

"I don't—"

"It's sundown in Gotham," Kon pointed out. Then, softer, he added, "Please."

Tim was staring. He knew he was staring, he knew it was rude, but how could he stop? Kon looked so earnest in his concern. Part of Tim wanted to snap and push and snide at his friend that he was more than capable of taking care of himself, but Kon didn't know that. If he was talking to Robin he would, but he was talking to Tim Drake. Tim Drake, who had just so clearly hurt Kon with his rejection, and yet Kon was still worried enough —he still cared enough— to make sure Tim got home safe.

But he didn't care because Tim was Tim, he cared because Kon was Superboy. How could Tim have ever hoped to be worthy of the affection of someone so damn good?

After the silence stretched on for too long Kon tried to convince Tim once more. With a smile that's a little more genuine he threw out the sentence, "Robin would never let me hear the end of it if I left you to fend for yourself."

Tim could see it for what it was, an attempt to appeal to a Gothamite's pride. City boy isn't impressed with a Super? Dangle a bat to try instead.

Tim took the out. He nodded for Kon to follow as he started to walk, waiting an appropriate minute of silence to pretend he was working up the nerve to ask, "You really know Robin?"

"Yeah, he's…" Kon trailed off with a distant sort of smile. For a second, Tim dreaded hearing whatever his friend would have to say about him. If it was anything shitty… well, Tim would deserve it but it would still hurt. If it was anything nice, Tim might throw up with how undeserving of Kon's kindness he was. More likely than that, it would end up just being some kind of joke.

It turned out that Tim didn't need to worry at all, though, because when Kon finally spoke again it was a deflection, "Well, you're the Gothamite. You tell me."

Oh, the things Tim could say about Robin.

He's the best, He could say. Better than Superboy, that's for sure.

He could tease and throw a wink and watch Kon squirm in a way that would've been funny if he wasn't already looking so damn heartbroken. Or, Tim could join Kon in being so obviously in his feels by telling the truth.

Robin is an asshole.

He's a shitty friend.

He's a loser who will die alone.

He's the faulty replacement to a faulty replacement and he's well on his way to being replaced himself.

He's someone who's sure to die alone and unloved just like he deserves.

"He's fine, I guess," Tim settled on saying.

He watched from the corner of his eye as Kon went to say something else, but aborted the effort before a sound came out. Maybe it was because of Tim's shut-down body language, or maybe he just realized Tim wasn't worth trying to talk to through the mountain of awkwardness between them. Whatever his reason, Kon didn't say anything else as he supervised Tim's walk home through the darkening streets of Gotham.

Tim's never seen Kon so quiet. He's never wanted to be farther from his best friend in his life. But he deserved this awkward pain and discomfort, so he sat in it. He walked through it. He didn't bother pretending the next time he saw Kon would hurt any less.

Of course it didn't hurt less.

Kon put on a brave face, but the team could tell that something was up. Suddenly teasing Superboy about his obsession with Tim Drake was an easy way to get Kon to turn cold and shut down. Kon was a little snappy in general, actually, cutting remarks with more sass and less remorse than normal.

"Fix him," Cassie had hissed at Tim through clenched teeth as the two of them watched Kon try to open a cabinet with too much strength that he accidentally pulled the door off his hinges.

"I don't even know what's wrong," Tim argued back, like a liar. Tim knew exactly what was wrong. In fact, it was Tim himself that was the root of Kon's recent poor attitude.

Seriously, it was like the guy's never been rejected before. Tim's never seen anyone so pouty, so grouchy, so worked up over a stupid crush not being returned. It wasn't like Kon even knew Tim all that well. It wasn't like he was close with Tim. No, he was close with Robin, but he couldn't be bothered to grow affections for Robin. What made Tim so special? What was so enticing about this half-fake, half-secret side to himself that managed to finally earn Kon's affections that after years of being Robin he had never been able to earn before?

"He said no."

"Hmm?"

"Rob, don't pretend like you haven't already sleuthed out what happened."

"I'm sorry."

"Who could say no to Superboy?"

"Maybe… Maybe he was intimidated by the fact you're a hero."

"You think I should try again as Conner?"

"Why didn't you?"

"What?"

"You approached a civilian." Tim couldn't keep his petty bitterness out of his voice. "Why not approach him as a civilian? Why did you have to do it as Superboy?"

"Kon," was the firm correction, "I didn't ask him out as Superboy. I asked him out as Kon."

Tim held his friend's gaze. He sent a question over with his eyes, waiting patiently in the quiet for Kon to speak again, for Kon to explain what the hell that meant. Eventually, he did, "Conner Kent is like… he's a persona. He's supposed to be a human and I'm…"

Kon floated upwards and twirled in the air before he threw his hands out and continued, "I mean just look at me! This is me. I was grown in a tube and never got a childhood. I have TTK and I'm allergic to space rocks and I fight evil and I'm friends with the coolest heroes and I dress in leather jackets and- Conner Kent is me. My personality doesn't change, but all of a sudden I'm only half colored in. I don't want something with someone who I need to keep so much of myself from, it feels too fake. I'm just not built for it like you are."

"I'm fake?"

"No, that's not what I mean."

"It's what you said."

"I just meant… I meant that you're good with secrets and all that shit," Kon said, and it would've been begrudgingly fine if he left it at that. Unfortunately, he kept talking, "You don't need to let people actually get close to you."

What the fuck?

Since when weren't they close? Kon had let plenty of insults fly between them in the past, but without even trying he just said the most painful words that Tim has ever heard from him.

He felt his knuckles clenching white as they pinched into the palms of his hand. He didn't even try to hide the defensive edge that his voice took on, "I trust you with my life all the time."

"Okay, but you don't," Kon argued.

"Of course I do! We're teammates. We—"

"No. You trust me to keep you alive," The interruption made Tim freeze. He wanted to say that Kon was proving himself wrong with his argument, but Kon kept talking. Frustratingly, the more he explained it, the more his reasoning started to make sense. "You don't trust me with your life. I don't even know who you are."

But, Kon did. He might not know Robin's birth name, birthday, or fucking social security number, but he knew Tim's personality. Wasn't that just what Kon was saying himself? It was the parts of himself that shaped his life which mattered, not whatever name he happened to go by at any given moment. Wasn't that the point? Tim felt like he was missing the point.

"You don't know who I am?" He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Not your name," Kon laughed without humor.

Oh, please. As if the sum of Tim's identity could somehow be captured by something as simple as a name.

"No one on the team knows," Tim reminded him, "It's not just you."

"It doesn't make me feel better to know that you don't trust the others either."

"The hell I don't!" Tim didn't even make the decision to raise his voice, but all of a sudden he was yelling.

"Then tell me who you are!" Kon screamed back. "Let me look you in the eye for once in my fucking life."

"I can't."

"You could." Kon countered. "You just won't."

Kon would never understand. On a fundamental level, the way Kon and Tim defined identity would never smoothly blend together. They'd always clash. Loud arguments and heated misunderstandings, they were lucky to put up with each other well enough to be friends. Anything more would be a burning fuse, regardless of whatever superficial level of attraction Kon happened to feel for a different version of Tim.

The silence stretched for a few beats too long.

"Wow," Kon laughed without humor. "You won't even deny it."

It was exhausting, trying to find words when his heart felt so heavy and his mind felt so numb.

"What, no comeback?" Kon tried again to prompt him.

What the hell was Tim supposed to say?

"Fine," Kon turned on his heel to walk out the door. "Whatever."

Tim turned his own back on his friend. He let his shoulders start to shake in the empty room. Or, it would have been empty if Kon actually left. Tim heard Kon's voice again, "Rob, are you crying?"

"Hah," The laugh escaped him before he could successfully clamp his hand over his mouth. His shoulders shook harder, the laugh still simmering in his chest.

Crying?

As if Tim had the energy to cry.

"Rob?" Kon had the nerve to sound worried. Tim felt laughter bubble up again.

"That's not my name," Tim reminded him.

"Don't be such an asshole."

Heh.

What the fuck was there left to lose? His identity? Please. Who the fuck was Tim Drake if Tim Drake wasn't Robin?Would he lose his pride, then? But he hadn't felt proud of himself recently, rejecting the person he wanted more than anything because the wrong version of Kon approached the fake version of Tim.

There was no clean way out of this. Either it ended in yet another drawn out fight between Tim and Kon which impacted team dynamics almost as significantly as it would impact Tim's sleep schedule and aggravation and willingness to pull off reckless, impulsive actions in the field or Tim gives up the part of himself he's spent every day since age fourteen clinging to desperately.

Why did opening up have to feel like he was losing something instead of sharing it? How long was he willing to push away the people he wanted to hold close over two syllables.

Tim Drake had a net worth of way too much, but Tim valued Kon's friendship infinitely more. He could withstand torture, beatings, violence, he could maintain his integrity with ease in situations more people would absolutely fall apart during, and yet this pattern he was trapped in with Kon was what was breaking him.

Kon would want to know Robin's name. Tim makes a joke of it and they laugh it off. Kon stops letting it be treated as a joke. They fight. Tim has to reprocess the fact that nothing can ever come from his feelings for his best friend because Kon treats a domino mask like it might as well be a restraining order. Tim tries to move on. Kon remembers they're actually friends, not enemies, and starts acting like it again. Tim fails to move on. Then, Kon wants to know Robin's name…

There was no way to break the cycle.

Well, there was one way to break the cycle.

Still laughing, still exhausted, still emotionally drained, Tim made a choice. It was possibly the second biggest choice he ever made in his life, ranking just shy of his decision to put on a Robin mask in the first place. This time, he chose to take the mask off.

All the build up, all the tension, all the years of committing to his secret, and this life-changing decision could be perfectly summed up in two words: Fuck it.

"Hi," He said as he turned around. "My name is-"

"Timothy Drake," Kon's voice was cold.

"No one really calls me Timothy," He said, raising his gaze to reach Kon's eyes. "But you know that."

"Wow." Kon swallowed. All the worry had melted off his features, all the frustration that preceded it refused to return. There was nothing. He looked stoic as a statue until finally, he pursed his lips. A single head nod, acceptance, before he said the words, "You're an asshole."

"See? You already knew that. A different name doesn't change shit about who I am,"

Tim, still struggling to cling to foggy, tired thoughts, felt strangely satisfied by Kon's reaction. That is of course until Kon's lips began to snarl and a fire of anger sparked behind his eyes. He looked at Tim the way one might look at a rotten piece of chewed gum at the bottom of a muddy shoe. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What?"

The reaction was so far from what Tim expected he couldn't help but laugh again. He expected confusion, surprise, a million different emotions before he would've expected disgust.

"Oh, don't look so fucking shocked," Kon spat. "What was… What was the point here, man?"

"I don't—"

"You barely look twice at me as Robin," Kon began pacing, threading his fingers into his hair to start pulling at its roots. "And that's fine. You don't owe me any fucking feelings. But then you encourage me to ask you out as a civilian just— just to fucking reject me? What the fuck, dude?"

That was not what happened. But hearing Kon's interpretation of events sure felt like a gut punch. It was almost disorienting enough to make Tim forget the words "You don't owe me any fucking feelings."

Since when did Kon have feelings for him?

"Kon, I—"

"You let me talk and talk about you to you for how long? Do you really need your ego stroked that much? Some friend you are. You are nothing but a manipulative, cruel, selfish—"

"Kon!"

"Superboy. I think we should keep things professional, yeah?"

Tim laughed again. He pressed his palms into his eyes and let his shoulders resume their shaking. "You're fucking impossible."

"I'm impossible?" Kon echoed back. "You're the one who told me to ask him out just to reject me."

"What was I supposed to do, Kon?" Tim was genuinely begging for an answer. "You said you liked Tim Drake as a way to come out to me! Was I supposed to say that you having feelings for a guy was a bad thing? Was I supposed to say yes when I knew who you were and you were looking at me like we've barely met before?"

"If you were always going to say no then didn't need to make it sound like you would say yes to a date!" Kon shouted.

"I thought you didn't want me to lie," Tim threw back it him.

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"So, I'm an evil liar when I don't tell you what my first name is, but then you want me to pretend that there's a world where anyone in their right mind would not want you to ask them out?" Tim summarized.

"You didn't!"

"I didn't want Kon-El to ask out Tim Drake!" Tim yelled. "Because Tim Drake is nothing without being Robin, and you don't want Robin the same way you want Tim Drake."

"Who are you to tell me what I want?"

"You've told me what you want!" Tim reminded. "You've told me you want him! You want the weaker, faker, worse version of—"

"He is you!" Kon yelled.

"He's the version of me that you wanted, not the version of me that I am," Tim claimed.

"I don't want a version of you," Kon threw his hands to the side. "I want you. Apparently, I want it in any way, shape or form. I want you as Robin and I want you as Tim and guess what, dumbass? Those guys are still the same fucking person. You can tell by the way neither of those assholes have ever wanted me."

"Were you not listening?" Tim wanted to take a piece of kryptonite between his knuckles and absolutely clobber that fool. "No sane person could help but want you."

"Yeah?" Kon laughed briefly, the sound far from the hysterics that had been shaking Tim's shoulders earlier. "Well, no one ever claimed that you were sane."

"You're such a dick."

Kon stepped closer. "Is that why you rejected me?"

"I didn't want—" Tim cut himself off as Kon stepped closer again.

"Didn't want what?"

"I didn't want to reject you," Tim swallowed. "But I had to."

Another step. "Why not? Why wouldn't you want to reject me?"

Tim refused to say a word. Kon moved even closer, raising a hand to hold Tim's jaw in a way to force eye contact.

"What do you want?" Kon asked. Then, he asked it cruelly, "What do you want, Tim?"

That name, spoken by that voice, with that hand holding Tim in place to ensure they never stopped looking each other in the eye. What could Tim want besides this?

When he fell forward Kon didn't stop him. Their lips connected harshly, no hesitation left lingering between them anymore. The second Tim slotted into place against Kon he wrapped his arms around the back of the other man's neck. Kon slid the hand on Tim's check back to grip the hairs at the base of his skull. Another hand landed on Tim's hip and pulled him impossibly closer. The kiss was hungry, demanding, infuriating and amazing in all the same ways Kon himself was.

Tim broke apart to tell him, "I hate you."

Kon bit down hard on Tim's bottom lip, pulling back once more to scold, "Stop lying."

It was hard for Tim to respond with Kon's pressing, biting mouth covering his once again. The next time Tim managed to pull away enough to take a gasping breath, he forced the words, "We need to talk about this."

Kon was pressing firm lips down Tim's jaw. He kissed lower and lower until he was mumbling against Tim's neck, "In a minute."

"You can't—" Tim gasped as Kon's teeth scratched across his skin. "—You can't tell anyone."

Kon bit, too light to leave a mark but enough to tease the threat of one. "I will not be one of your dirty little secrets."

"My name," Tim clarified, fighting off a whine as Kon moved to suck on a sweet spot underneath Tim's jaw. "You can't tell anyone I'm Tim Drake."

"No," Kon agreed. "But you need to."

"Uh-uh," Tim refused. He couldn't find proper words to argue, not with a warm mouth against his skin and firm hands holding him in place. He was trembling desperately, letting his thoughts fog over in a way that somehow felt blissful instead of numb.

"You will," Kon mumbled, determined.

"They're gonna—" A whine escaped him as Kon brought their hips together. He forced himself to focus. "They're gonna make so much fun of you."

Finally, Kon pulled back, just far enough to glare down at Tim. "That's only if you tell them about us, too."

Still catching his breath, Tim let the corner of his mouth tick upwards. "Is there an us to tell them about?"

"Don't you dare pretend there isn't."

Tim allowed himself to kiss Kon again. Hands were still secure, lips were still rendering him breathless, but this time Tim stopped himself from holding back. They still had more conversations to have, what this meant for them, what it meant for the team, what they wanted it to mean for each other, where the name "Tim Drake" fit into the picture. Those answers would come in time.

For a minute longer, Tim was happy to let time endlessly slip away. Kon was kissing him. Not Robin, not Tim, maybe a little of both but a little of neither all at once. Kon was kissing him. For once he felt complete. He felt like himself, and it felt like that was enough.