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Out. He needed to get out. Stumbling through the gaggle of boisterous drunk people, Tim made his way through the crowd, ignoring the glances he received on his way out. He cursed Steph and her persuasiveness as he got out the door.
Steph had been adamant about taking him out to a club (most probably to get his mind off Conner by meeting some new people), so much so that she had already bought the tickets two weeks before the event. And then, of course, Steph being Steph, got sick. She swore she felt fine, but Tim found that a bit hard to believe when her raspy voice made them both cringe whenever she spoke. Still, Steph managed to convince him to go alone, saying he would be fine and that he should give this a chance, and when Tim shot her an unbelieving look, told him that he had to at least stay till midnight or she would tell Batman about the time when-
So, Tim had gone. He’d met people, and amongst them, the most interesting guy was only interesting because he distantly looked like Conner. He was called Jeff—probably, Tim wasn’t really listening—had bought him a few tequila shots and asked him if he wanted to dance. Upon checking his watch and discovering that he still had over an hour to kill, Tim had allowed himself to be dragged to the dancefloor. But once the guy slowly snaked his hands around Tim’s waist, and then lower, Tim started to feel a drowsiness overtake him, slowly but surely creeping up from his chest all the way up to his eyes. He tried to analyse his response time and make sense of his drowsiness, but when he opened his eyes and pulled away slightly—when had he closed them?—Jeff held on tighter, whispering to him in a voice that made him feel nauseous.
“Where are you going, beautiful?” A lascivious look accompanied his sentence. No, Tim knew better. He could distinguish a sultry look from a predatory gaze. “The night’s just begun.” That alone had been enough to set Tim’s senses on fire, all of them screaming danger at him. He needed to get out, to get to safety.
Standing outside with nothing but his semi-transparent black top, he felt a shiver ripple through him. He knew that the guy would find him soon, that once he checked the bathroom, his next best idea would be to check outside. He looked around to find an out, to find a way to escape. The street seemed empty, apart from a guy standing just out of the streetlight’s illumination, staring at Tim with an almost unnerving intensity. But Tim knew that face, he would always recognise him.
Relief flooded him.
“Kon.” It sounded like a prayer, falling from his lips without him meaning to. It was just above a whisper, a bit raspy at the edges from having to shout at the club to get his sentences across.
Kon didn’t move, and just as Tim started to move towards him, he felt a hand on his shoulder, freezing instantly. He had taken too long; the guy had already found him. He looked back at Kon, who was… no longer there?
“Tim,” The voice came from the person behind him. “Are you okay? What happened?” It was Kon, his Kon. He was actually here, with his cordial voice and concerned eyes that seemed as endless as the ocean.
“Kon, how’d you find me? How’d you get here?” his questions came in quick succession, albeit a bit slurred. Nothing made sense. “I didn’t say your name until after I saw you standing there.”
“I came from the farm, Tim. You called my name, and you sounded shaken, I wanted to make sure you were okay. You called, so I came.” His eyes scanned over Tim, x-raying him to make sure he was okay.
“But I saw you! You were standing right-” And then the pieces clicked. It wasn’t the alcohol; he simply hadn’t had enough for that to be the case. Drowsiness, slight nausea, slurring his words and hallucinations only pointed towards one thing: “Roofies.”
“What.” Kon now seemed thunderous, the softness that usually accompanied his voice completely gone.
Tim paid him no mind, continuing to build on his realisation. “Of course it is. It even explains the hallucinations, and the reduction in my response time, and-” he cut himself off when he noticed Jeff exiting the club, faced flushed red with anger.
He turned to Kon instead, nudging him in the arm that was holding him—Kon had never stopped touching him since he had arrived, and it was making Tim’s insides feel tingly with all the butterflies that had taken residence in his stomach.
But before he could say anything, Jeff approached them with a fuming look on his face, which he was so obviously trying to placate into something more neutral (and failing, badly).
“There you are,” his voice was strained, like he was holding himself back, “who’s this guy, Tim?”
After receiving no reply from Tim, he turned to Kon and took a few steps towards their direction.
“Hey dude. He was with me, first. Go find yourself another one.”
He could feel Kon shaking besides him in nothing short of fury, “Stay the fuck away, or I will make you stay.”
Tim was starting to feel the full effects of the roofies in his system now; he felt nauseous, his hands clammy, his whole body slowly swaying left to right. He wanted to go home.
“What are you, his boyfrie-” Jeff’s sneer was cut off by Kon’s loud interruption of, “Yes, actually, got a fucking problem with that?” Kon was now standing slightly in front of Tim, not enough to hide him from Jeff’s sight completely, but enough to be a barrier in between them.
“That right? Then explain to me why the bitch was rutting up against me like a dog in heat, even before I roofied his dri-”
A deafening crack was heard on the otherwise empty street, followed by loud wailing coming from Jeff. He was on his ass, clutching his nose with fingers now coated in blood, and Kon was walking towards him with his fists balled, blood dripping from his right.
“You fucking dare talk about him again, and you’ll see how strong I can get.” Tim had never heard Kon’s voice so angry, not even when they were up against Luthor. It was attractive. Not the time, though. He’d have plenty of time fantasising about Kon’s angry voice, his breathtaking (literally, in Jeff’s experience) strength later. Now, they needed to get out of there, to get home.
“Kon,” he said, his slur getting heavier and leaving his lips in a way that almost sounded like a whine, “Take ‘s h’me, please.”
Kon’s attention was back on him in an instant, and Tim was sure he’d noticed how bad his slur had gotten. His left hand came up to hold his cheek in his hand, and Tim’s eyes closed on their own accord, and he automatically leaned into it. He tried to savour the feeling of having Kon so close to him, of his warm, calloused hand holding him like he was the most precious treasure this world had to offer. When he opened his eyes again, gazing up at Kon, he only found love there. An all-encompassing, ceaseless love that surpassed any words that Kon could have said then.
“Let’s go home.” Kon kissed his forehead, once, and then they were flying. They flew slower than usual, mainly because Kon had most likely noticed Tim’s nausea, which gave Tim the opportunity to nuzzle his head in Kon’s neck, breathing his sharp yet comforting scent in.
“Th’nk you.” Tim said, his lips brushing against Kon’s neck, “l’ve ya.”
And if Kon’s arms tightened around his back and thighs, Tim only felt it distantly, lulled by the comforting presence holding him tight.
-----------------
Tim woke up with a blaring headache, a mixture of the drugs wearing off, the alcohol and his regular dehydration all amalgamated into one big salad of “this morning will not be fun for Tim”. He slowly opened his eyes, groaning to let all four of his walls to let them know about his malcontent. He stretched, letting one arm hit the empty space—only it didn’t fall back on the bed like he’d thought it would, instead knocking into a hard mass that let out a startled grunt.
Tim yelped and flinched back so hard that he slipped off the bed, almost falling onto the ground. Kon caught him right before he fell, but he had to get in an awkward position to do so—with his body in an-L shape, arms outstretched behind Tim, holding him close. So close, in fact, that their faces were inches apart, their breaths mingling, coming out in tiny huffs. That was when Tim noticed two things: he was as naked as they come, save his boxers, and Kon was very aware of that (if the blush on his face was any indication).
“Uhh…” Tim forced himself to say. Articulate as ever. “Did we…” He gestured between them, trying to jog his memory. He remembered Kon flying them to the Nest, but the rest was completely empty.
“No!” came Kon’s indignant yelp, “Of course not, Tim, you were… you were drugged. Roofied. Of course we didn’t- I would never do that to you.” he set both of them back on the bed, putting some distance between them. All Tim wanted was to pull him back in, nuzzle his face in Kon’s neck like he’d done the previous night.
Instead, he gestured to himself, fighting a blush when he felt Kon’s eyes rake over his body, and asked, “Then why, pray tell, am I naked?” a mix of playfulness and confusion seeped into his tone.
“Ah, see.” Kon’s blush was now scarlet. “You wanted to have sex. I said we couldn’t until you were sober. But the more I tried to convince you we couldn’t, the more upset you got, and you started going off about some bullshit” he scowled, “about how ‘oh, of fucking course he doesn’t want to fuck you, Tim, he’s straight, you should’ve been content with the look-alike that roofied your drink.’ which pissed me off, but that’s something we’re going to talk about now.” His eyes moved up and down Tim’s body once, “Or like, after breakfast.”
Tim raised an eyebrow at that. “Yeah, some clothes would be nice.”
“Y-yeah, I’ll go get us breakfast and you get dressed. Meet ya in the kitchen.” And then he was gone.
Tim tried not to focus too much on the events from last night, about what he did and didn’t remember. He didn’t think about the conversations that they would have to have, didn’t think about how he was about to get rejected by his best friend. His straight best friend. He simply picked whatever was at the top of the drawer—which happened to be one of Kon’s shirts and shorts—and went to the bathroom. The dishevelled mess that looked back at him from the mirror made him cringe, and he quickly took a shower, putting on the clothes he had brought with him. Then, he slowly made his way to the kitchen, where he could hear the soft grunts of the coffee machine whirring away. He set out the plates and two mugs for them, and then sat down, waiting for Kon.
Kon arrived a few minutes later, a carton bag in hand and a grin plastered on his face.
“Is that my shirt?” Tim thought Kon had something akin to pride in his voice when he said that.
“Not just the shirt,” Tim replied mock-flirtily as he lifted the bottom hem of the shirt to reveal the shorts that he wore underneath.
Kon’s eyes widened, and he started laughing. Tim burrowed his eyebrows and gazed down to discover that Kon’s shorts were probably still sitting on the edge of the sink, given he was still in his boxers. Heat rushed to his face as he pulled his shirt hem down to cover himself. The shirt was big enough to go down to his mid-thigh, thankfully.
“Oh, shut up.” Tim said, lightly punching Kon’s arm when he didn’t stop laughing. “I was bleary, I literally just woke up.”
“Sure, Boy Wonder, let’s go with that one. Guess what I got?”
Grateful for the topic change, Tim reached out for the bag.
“No idea, but I’m starving.” The smell only made him hungrier than he was feeling.
It turned out to be one croque madame and one croque monsieur, all the way from Paris. Kon hadn’t been able to remember which one Tim liked—it was croque monsieur—so he’d gotten both. Tim ate that one, sitting cross-legged on the chair while Kon had the other, slightly levitating off his own chair. As they sipped their coffees, Kon brought up the previous night again.
“I don’t remember any of that, to be honest.” Tim said, “The last thing I remember is you flying us home- I mean to the Nest. Also, I’m… sorry about propositioning you like that? I do know you’re straight, I don’t” he cleared his throat and looked away, missing the shock on Kon’s face, “I don’t know why I said that-“
“Tim. Timmy. Bird wonder. Bird brain.” Tim let out a yelp at the last one, “What part of me exudes straight? Tell me now so that I can change it.”
What.
“What? You’re… but you’re straight!” Tim wasn’t sure whether he was trying to convince Kon or himself.
“Tim, look at me. I’m like the most stereotypical bi guy you could ever come across. Leather jacket, glasses, earring, I mean just look at me! What made you think that I-” he cut himself off with a hand raised as a theatrical stop sign, “That’s what you got from that sentence? That’s the part we were least worried about. Tim, you said, and again, I quote, “I should’ve been happy with the lookalike that roofied my drink”. First of all, I genuinely do hope that was a sarcastic comment on your behalf, or this conversation will go somewhere really different.” his tone was sharp, yet still soft around the edges, meaning he wasn’t actually mad, but trying to mask his worry behind it. Tim could see how tight Kon was gripping his cup, the worry seeping through his hands. He felt the urge to reach to them, to pry them away from the cup so that he wouldn’t get hurt by it. He knew that Kon was invulnerable, but the urge to protect, to cherish remained.
He reached his hand out, waiting for Kon to take it before talking. Kon took it as if it was a pledge, a vow. “No, I don’t- I mean, I don’t really remember, as I’ve said, but I think that must’ve been a sarcastic comment. I wouldn’t stoop that low. I mean, I was trying to get away from the guy.”
A sigh rushed out of Kon’s chest, his shoulders dropping from where they’d almost risen up to his ears. “Thank Rao. Good to establish. Thank you for calling me.”
Tim looked a bit sheepish at that. “I didn’t call you, Kon. I thought about it, of course. You were all I was thinking about last night. But no, I didn’t call out your name until I saw your hallucination. Once I established that it had been a visual hallucination, I figured that it was roofies that made me that way. So, it’s more like I was talking to your hallucination rather than calling for you. But I did feel immense relief at your presence. You make me feel safe.”
“Careful there, Timmy.” Kon squeezed his hand once, a teasing smile mixed with something deeper in his eyes. “I might get some ideas.” Then he furrowed his eyebrows, and the playfulness left its place for something more serious.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but last night, you also mentioned something along the lines of only spending time with that guy because he looked like me?“
Tim took a deep breath in and closed his eyes. “To be honest, the entire reason I went out last night was you. Steph told me I needed to take my mind off you, and that I needed to meet and-“ he made a face around his next words, “mingle with other people.”
When he received no reply from Kon, he turned to look at the boy sitting in front of him. Kon looked like a mix of emotions. Hopeful, scared, but more than anything, love was omnipresent on his face. He had looked that way the previous night as well, Tim recalled with sudden clarity. Could it be..?
The newfound theory gave him courage to continue. “But, as we both know by now, that didn’t go really well. I ended up talking to a guy that looked like you, only for him to roofie my drink and try to follow me when I got away. So, he ended up being nothing like you. Because my Kon is charming, sweet, flirty but respectful, and my best friend. That guy was nothing like you.”
Kon’s eyes widened at the mention of being Tim’s Kon, and by the end of Tim’s sentence, he had already gotten to the other side of the table, putting one hand on Tim’s cheek like he’d done yesterday. This time, though, the touch was much slower, much more intentional. Kon was looking in Tim’s eyes, a question. Tim leaned in, and without breaking eye contact, kissed the palm that warmed him up, an answer.
Kon closed the distance between them, then, pulling Tim closer to himself and crashing their lips together. With the hand that snaked behind Tim’s head, he slightly pulled at his hair. Tim returned the kiss just as fervently, both hands on Kon’s neck. They kissed for three seconds or three hours, Tim couldn’t tell. When they broke apart, though, they both had rosy cheeks and chest falling up and down hastily.
Tim had a glimmer in his eyes. His smile was so wide that he could feel his scars stretch against his cheeks. They went to the couch to be able to sit more comfortably after breakfast- or was it considered brunch? Tim hadn’t checked the time.
They moved to the couch afterwards, sitting like how they always did. Kon at one end with his legs diagonally on the couch, and Tim with his legs laying on Kon’s. Kon’s hands rested calmly on Tim’s legs, and Tim couldn’t help but smile at how domestic it felt. They might have gotten used to sitting like that, but every time Tim had reminded himself that Kon was straight and that he was just being comfortable in his masculinity. While that was true, Tim was blind to the actual reason behind it. Kon liked this as much as he did, if the answering smile was any indication. It sent shivers up Tim’s spine, the thought, the fact that his affections were returned. He brought his hands up to Kon’s arms, leisurely moving them up and down.
“So, clone boy. You still didn’t tell me why I woke up naked in my bed with you lying next to me. And though I wouldn’t mind a repeat of that, tell me what happened first?”
“Oh, yeah. So, after you started blabbering about how of course I wouldn’t fuck you—I would, by the way, I’d want nothing more— you actually got really sad about that, and you started to cry. Full on sobbing, hiccups tears and snot. I’ve never seen you that sad, I could feel my heart breaking.” He frowned a bit and then shook his head. “Then, I hugged you tight and that seemed to help. We talked for a bit, and you almost fell asleep then and there, but instead of falling asleep in my arms, you decided to ask me whether I’d fuck you now. I tried to say we could when you were sober but not when you had fucking roofies in your system, and your lip started wobbling at that. I don’t think my heart could have survived you crying again that night, so I gave in. Told you to take off your clothes and wait for me in your bed. You did, but I didn’t come into the room until I was sure your breathing evened out and your heartbeat was slower. Then, I covered you with the blankets and lied down next to you. Woke up with a smack on my chest.” Kon grinned playfully at the end of his sentence.
Tim grimaced instead. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was pretty sure it was going to fall on the bed. I don’t think I thanked you for yesterday, thank you for being there for me. I’m also sorry for… getting my snot on you?”
“Baby, you can get your snot on me all you want.” He thought about it for a second. “That sounded sexual. I just meant that you could be comfortable with me because I’ll always be there for you. No matter what.”
Laughing, Tim changed his position on the couch so that he was facing Kon fully, and hugged him, hiding his face in the crook of Kon’s neck again. If Kon noticed the slight wetness that came from Tim’s eyes, he didn’t mention it. He only brought up a hand to play with Tim’s hair, relishing in the fact that he could do this freely now.
“You sure like nuzzling in my neck, huh?” Kon huffed out, and Tim could identify the warm smile that graced Kon’s face.
“It’s comfy.” Came Tim’s reply, one hand coming up to rest on Kon’s nape.
“Your face fits there like a puzzle piece. We fit together like puzzle pieces. You complete me, Timothy Drake-Wayne.” Kon kissed the back of his head, the only place he could reach without disturbing Tim’s position. Tim only hugged him tighter, whispering a quiet I love you against his skin.
They stayed like that, perhaps for a few hours, perhaps for eternity. Tim wasn’t complaining either way.