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Tim stared aghast at the headline printed in big, black letters across the front page of the Gotham Gazette.
The article was about him, which wasn’t surprising. He’d taken over as CEO of Wayne Enterprises when he was 17 and watched profit margins increase, even as the company’s philanthropic efforts first doubled, then tripled, often on Tim’s own dime. WE’s stock price was higher than ever. Employee benefits were unmatched. Tim was 23 and charming, the youngest billionaire in history, achieving the title at 19, and only getting richer ever since. His story was inspiring; his family was adorable; he was hot, and he knew it. He graduated as valedictorian from Gotham University’s Drake School of Business (which people never failed to point out was named after his grandfather) while still serving as the CEO of a global company.
To make a long story short, Tim was a media darling, and it made sense. So it wasn’t seeing his name in the headline that shocked him, rather… everything else.
“Wayne and Luthor Heirs Spotted Together at Cafe, Which Could Mean Nothing,” it read, staring up at him accusingly from the page. Underneath it was a paparazzi photo clearly taken through the window of the cafe he’d been in with Kon the previous day, both of them grinning like idiots over the piece of coffee cake they were sharing.
Ok, so, that wasn’t great. Tim would obviously have preferred not to be photographed while out for coffee with his best friend, but it could have been worse. Nothing in the picture was incriminating, nothing that would have to be covered up or distracted from by his PR team. Cautiously, Tim began to read the article.
For years, Wayne Enterprises and LuthorCorp have been at odds, competitors and enemies in every market. Former WE CEO Bruce Wayne and current L-Corp CEO Lex Luthor are consistently openly hostile towards each other, making inflammatory and insulting statements about one another both in the press and to each other’s faces. However, yesterday, years of animosity came to a startling halt.
Current WE CEO Timothy Drake-Wayne was spotted having a friendly conversation with L-Corp heir (currently working as an accountant at his father’s company) Conner Kent-Luthor.
The name “Connor Kent-Luthor” will be familiar to many readers, having been the talk of the town for weeks since his very public revelation only a few weeks ago. After Kent-Luthor earned a bachelor’s degree in finance and accounting from the University of Metropolis, his father decided it was high time to reveal his existence to the general public.
“He’s been going as just Conner Kent for years now,” Luthor said during the infamous press conference. “But now that he is older and taking his place in the family business, we wanted people to know his true heritage.”
“I’ll always be a Kent,” Kent-Luthor said in a brief statement. “But I am also a Luthor, and I take that very seriously. I will use my legacy to do good in the world, to help those in need through charity and innovation, even if it doesn’t always mean profit. That’s what being a Kent taught me, and that’s what being a Luthor allows me.”
Now, Drake-Wayne and Kent-Luthor have been spotted making nice. Could this be a sign that Kent-Luthor is planning to take his company in a new direction, with WE as an ally? Or is it perhaps Drake-Wayne who is the one planning to go against history?
The most popular speculation, alternatively, argues that the meeting had nothing to do with business at all. Witnesses claim that Drake-Wayne and Kent-Luthor were far too friendly merely to be business associates.
A barista at the cafe, who wished to remain anonymous, told me that “they talked like they’ve been friends for years. I mean, they were almost finishing each other’s sentences! That doesn’t say ‘business partners,’ to me. That says, ‘boyfriends.’”
Examining the dynamics in the image above, this reporter is inclined to agree that they don’t look like strangers meeting for the first time. But could it really be true that this is evidence of a romance between the two young men?
(Article continues pg. 3)
Tim didn’t bother flipping to the third page; he knew what it would say. Romance allegations, blah blah blah, additional speculation, blah, conclude with the statement “something something, which could mean nothing,” and ta-da! You’ve got an article to captivate millions.
Tim scoffed and tossed the paper down on his desk. Romance. As if! He and Kon had been friends for years, but that was all there was to it.
That had been the first time they’d met in public since Conner Kent had become Conner Kent-Luthor, taking up a place in his genetic donor’s company in the hopes of steering him in a more positive direction.
“Lex isn’t a bad guy,” Kon had said one night while he and Tim sat on the roof of Titan’s Tower, watching San Francisco go by. “He’s a little power-hungry, sure, and he’s the exact definition of a pompous jackass, but I think if I can convince him that Superman isn’t the enemy, that I’m not the enemy, then LuthorCorp could really do some good in the world. Like WE is.”
And Tim had believed him. After all, if anybody could do it, it was Conner. He hadn’t expected Luthor to be so receptive to his half-Kryptonian offspring, or to immediately adopt him and induct him into the company. Still, Kon seemed happy, and Luthor hadn’t tried to kill any of the Supers in weeks, so things were clearly going well.
And so what if the press had no way of knowing that Tim and Conner had known each other since Kon was fresh out of the test tube? The thought of romance was still ridiculous. Him and Kon? Really?
Tim didn’t understand why anybody would read more into the photo than that they were friendly. However, Tim was no stranger to romance allegations between himself and every eligible 20-something, some of the non-eligible ones too. Some of the seedier tabloids had even occasionally suggested relationships between him and his siblings. Tim had nearly fallen over laughing the first time he caught sight of a headline with him and Jason’s names stitched together into a ship name. Really, this time was no more ridiculous than any of the times a gossip rag spun the glares frequently shared by him and Damian into evidence of flirting between the two brothers.
The reason that this was bugging Tim so much more than any of the other articles was… well… Tim honestly wasn’t sure why. But he knew that romance between him and Kon wasn’t possible, nor was it something he would ever want.
Tim picked the paper up and read it again, this time flipping to the third page and reading the rest as well. Utter nonsense, as he’d expected. Baseless theories and senseless accusations.
Tim pointedly set the paper aside again and got to work. Not twenty minutes later, there was a knock on his window. Tim was on the 105th floor of a 106-floor building; the only thing upstairs was his own penthouse where he kept an auxiliary Red Robin uniform for long days at work.
There were very few people who could knock on his window, and only one of them had the motivation.
“Come in, Kon,” he called, and seconds later, Kon was settled into the chair across from his desk, propping his feet up on Tim’s desk.
“Hey there, Robby!” Tim’s best friend greeted him cheerfully.
“Don’t do that, Conner,” Tim groused, swatting at Kon’s legs with the closest paper on hand, which just so happened to be that morning’s Gotham Gazette. He felt Kon tug at the paper with his TTK and reluctantly let it go.
“Ah, so you’ve seen the news,” Conner teased, wiggling his eyebrows. He removed his feet from the desk only to start floating upside-down above it.
“Sadly,” Tim agreed.
“‘Examining the dynamics in the image above, this reporter is inclined to agree that they don’t look like strangers meeting for the first time. But could it really be true that this is evidence of a romance between the two young men?’” Kon quoted in a transatlantic accent. Tim laughed.
“Well, what do you say, Mr. Kent-Luthor?” He asked in the same bad accent. “Any truth to the rumors that you’re making more-than-nice with Mr. Drake-Wayne?”
“Indubitably so,” Kon snarked, wiggling his eyebrows flirtatiously. Tim rolled his eyes, grinning despite himself.
“Seriously, though,” he began. Kon landed back in his chair and met his eye. “The whole thing is completely ridiculous.”
“Really? I mean, I kinda see what they mean, don’t you?” Kon said.
“Not really, no,” Tim disagreed. “I see why they would theorize we already knew each other. I mean, they’re right about that much.”
“Your pretty face was the first one I ever did see,” Kon agreed, smiling gently.
“Right, so we’ve been friends a while. Anything more than that is just conjecture. I mean, this is nearly as ridiculous as the time I was spotted with Dick while I was still living with ‘Uncle Eddie,’ and the news assumed it meant I was his sugar baby. All they’re trying to do is sell more papers, and romance is always more exciting than friendship,” Tim said, laughing, though for some reason his chest was tight.
“Is that really what you think?” Kon asked, something unreadable in his eyes.
“I mean, yes?” Tim said. “What else?”
“Oh, nothing. Just thought your detective brain might have more theories about all the romance rumors the press is always starting up about you.”
“Occam’s razor,” Tim denied, shaking his head.
“Ah, of course,” Kon agreed, not meeting Tim’s eye. The Kryptonian blinked a few times rapidly and then grinned again as if nothing had happened.
“Are you ok, Kon?” Tim asked, frowning.
“Yeah, of course,” Kon said easily. “I should get going; I just wanted to talk to you about the article. But if you think everything’s business-as-usual, then I’ll head out.”
“Everything’s business-as-usual,” Tim confirmed. Kon nodded sharply. He turned away, then looked over his shoulder. He hesitated for a moment, and Tim could see in his face that something was troubling him, but Tim had learned a long time ago not to push the Kryptonian if there was something he didn’t want to say.
“Call me if you change your mind, yeah?” He asked.
“Sure, Kon,” Tim agreed, rolling his eyes a little. “If I discover some kind of conspiracy, I’ll call you.”
“Or if you just… change your mind,” Kon said. Then he was gone like he’d never been there at all.
(-0-)(-0-)(-0-)
That evening, Tim sat at Dick’s kitchen counter as the older man bustled around, pouring them both bowls of cereal.
“Talk to me, little brother,” he said, placing Tim’s bowl in front of him. “What’s going on?”
“What’s going on is that Chloe Foster wrote another one of her awful articles about me dating one of my friends and family, and I’m sick of it,” Tim responded.
“Ugh, I know. The next time I see my name next to Damian’s in one of those, I’m going to burn the Gazette offices down. I mean, he’s practically my kid! Ridiculous. I thought they were supposed to be a newspaper, not a gossip rag,” Dick said, scowling and waving his spoon wildly.
“Well, they’re both apparently, even if just for the Waynes and associates,” Tim grumbled.
“Speaking of associates, who are you hooking up with today?” Dick asked, sitting down on the stool next to Tim and tangling his legs into some odd pretzel around his body.
“Conner,” Tim responded. “I mean, can you even believe the bullshit they come up with?” He asked, laughing. Dick was silent for a long moment. Tim looked up from his cereal and met his brother’s eye, confused. “What?” He asked.
“Yeah, that’s crazy,” Dick commiserated, though he didn’t really sound like he agreed.
“You think it’s not?” Tim asked.
“I just think it’s weird that this is the one that sent you over the edge, when it is, in fact, the most normal suggestion so far,” Dick explained.
“Well, I guess they just pushed me too far,” Tim said.
“I guess so,” Dick agreed, frowning.
“Dick,” Tim said. “It’s crazy.”
“Ok, but that’s the thing, babybird. It’s not crazy at all,” Dick disagreed.
“Uh, yeah, actually, it is.”
“Ok, well, maybe think about it like this,” Dick started. Then he hesitated. “Listen,” he said, “you’re my little brother, and I love you, so don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re really oblivious sometimes.”
“God, Dick. Whatever you want to say, just say it,” Tim insisted, frustrated and anxious at Dick’s indecision.
“Ok, well, have you ever thought that the articles you react most negatively to are the ones that hold the most truth?” Dick asked. Tim opened his mouth to respond, but Dick held up a hand and cut him off. “Let me finish.”
“So, you remember that article about you and Steph from a few months ago? Well, afterward, you couldn’t look Stephie in the eyes for a few days without cringing. Or that article about you and Bernard? You haven’t really talked to Bernard in years, but you were still pissy for the rest of the day after reading it.
“And not to mention that one article that implied all of the adopted and pseudo-Wayne kids have or had crushes on Bruce. You ripped the whole thing up! And I know for a fact you had a crush on Bruce as a kid.”
“We all did!” Tim defended.
“Exactly, Tim! So it’s a little uncomfortable to admit, maybe, but we’re all in that boat together.” Tim sighed heavily through his nose.
“Your point?” He asked tightly.
“My point is that you only freak out when the articles aren’t wrong. And this is, by far, the most upset you’ve been about one of these. Like, you’re so upset you’re actually acknowledging it out loud.”
“I complain all the time,” Tim said. “And I still don’t get it.”
“You’re supposed to be the World’s Greatest Detective, babybird. The fact that you don’t get it is just proof of how deeply in denial you are. It’s not just a river in Egypt, you know?” Dick shot back.
“So you’re saying – what? That the fact I’m pissed off about the Gotham Gazette invading my privacy and writing borderline slander about me again means I’m attracted to Kon-El? Dick, what the hell?” Tim growled. He pushed his cereal aside, having lost interest long ago.
“See! You’re doing it again!” Dick accused, jabbing his spoon in Tim’s face.
“Doing what?”
“Getting pissed when someone accurately points out you like-like somebody,” Dick sing-songed, clearly self-satisfied.
“You’re 12. And you’re crazy. You’re a crazy 12-year-old,” Tim said.
“Am not,” Dick denied gleefully.
“You are, and I’m not playing that game with you right now,” Tim snapped, voice cracking. Dick sobered quickly.
“I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable, babybird. I just… wanted to help. But I see now that I’ve only made things worse for you. Just, please, take the time to really do some introspection about why this hurt you so much, ok? No matter what the reason is, I hate seeing my little brother so upset,” Dick said quietly, his eyes sparkling with an emotion Tim couldn’t identify.
“Ok, I will,” he said, lying to make Dick happy. True to form, his brother smiled.
“Alright, I love you.”
“Yeah, Dickface, I love you too.”
(-0-)(-0-)(-0-)
So Tim really had been lying when he said he wasn’t going to think about it. But it turned out his brain had other plans. Lying awake in bed that night after patrol, it would not shut up with Kon this and Conner that.
That wasn’t an unusual occurrence. Kon occupied his thoughts a lot, for whatever reason. More than any of his other friends or family. But that particular evening, he would rather cut his own spleen out than be reminded yet again of that day’s Gotham Gazette.
Tim groaned with frustration as he rolled over and turned on his lamp, deciding to give up on sleep for the evening.
It was there, with his hand on the switch and his other arm smushed beneath his body, that it hit him.
I’m in love with Kon.
Jesus H. Christ. He was so in love with Kon. And he had been for months. No, not months, he realized a second later. Years.
How had he missed it? How could it escape him that his heart raced when Kon smiled, and his stomach fluttered when he laughed? How hadn’t he realized how happy the Kryptonian made him, the only person who brightened his day just by existing?
“Conner!” He called out. A moment later, he was there, glowing very slightly in the dark of Tim’s room.
“What is it?” Kon asked urgently.
“Nothing, nothing, Kon,” Tim comforted. “I just wanted to talk to you.” He finally clicked his light on, and Kon came into full, beautiful relief.
“You’re sure?” Kon said, scanning the room for a threat. “Because your heart is beating pretty fast.” His eyes snapped back to Tim’s, terrified desperation plain in his unaturally blue irises.
“Yes, Kon, I’m sure. I just–” Tim cut himself off. He just what? Wanted to profess his undying love to his best friend? Yeah, right. Dick had been right about one thing (Dick had actually been right about many things. Tim probably owed him an apology), and it was that Tim had the emotional awareness of a Czarnian clopgnoerf, which was to say none at all.
It had taken Tim this long to acknowledge his own feelings; he had no desire to put them out in the open for scrutiny, especially not from Kon. Because as much as Kon was normally an open book to Tim, telling Kon that Tim loved him was something Tim wouldn’t do without complete confidence it would go over how he wanted it to.
Tim had no plan.
And there Kon was, standing in Tim’s bedroom, and he wouldn’t leave until Tim had properly assured him that all was well.
He needed a plan.
Had it always been that hot in his bedroom?
“Hey, Tim. Is Gotham always this cloudy?” Kon pressed, using the code words they’d concocted way back in the Young Just Us days before they’d come to their senses and actually named their team.
“Yeah, Kon. Except for when Mr. Freeze comes to town, then it’s worse,” Tim answered calmly. Kon let out a relieved breath, and a coating of frost formed on the ground in front of him.
“Ok, ok,” Kon said, shoulders finally relaxing. “So what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Kon, I just… had a nightmare and I called out for you, but it was nothing. It’s fine,” Tim lied, feeling very confident that that would settle things between them. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”
“But you weren’t asleep,” Kon said, frowning. Then he blushed.
“I– what?”
“You– uh, well. This is going to sound creepy, but,” Kon began, biting his lip. Tim sighed.
“You were listening to my heartbeat, weren’t you?” He asked.
“Yeah,” Kon agreed. “Yeah, I was. I’m sorry.”
“No, Kon, you don’t have to be sorry,” Tim said. “Lord knows I’ve done much worse,” he mumbled, mind going to green tubes and a screen flashing red with a notice that said, “99th attempt failed.”
Looking back, Tim probably should have realized he was in love with Kon as soon as he started trying to clone him (and only him, not Steph or Bart or his parents).
“Maybe, but this was invasive… I mean, you could have been doing something private or… I don’t know. I don’t know, but I’m… I’m sorry.” Kon was still blushing, fidgeting with his own hands in the way he only did when he needed to squeeze something with all the strength he could.
Tim studied him carefully, looking for any sign that a love confession would be welcomed. He must have been silent for too long because Kon started floating back and forth and frantically explaining himself.
“I know I shouldn’t, but Metropolis gets so loud. It helps to have something to focus on, you know? A beacon in the dark is what Clark calls it. His is Lois–” Kon cut himself off, freezing in midair before continuing almost faster than Tim could catch it. “Anyway, your heartbeat is so steady, and hearing it… it just helps me relax. Assures me that everything is ok,” Kon said. Then, if possible, started blushing even harder. “Sorry.”
Tim still didn’t get what the problem was. He understood seeking out your friends as reassurance and support, or having people who could be the calm in the veritable monsoon that was hero life.
Kon listened to Tim’s heartbeat to fall asleep. Perfectly normal. Apparently, Clark did the same for Lo-.
Ah, Tim thought. Clark does the same for Lois. Clark and Lois are decidedly not just friends.
At the revelation, Tim let out a relieved laugh.
No wonder Kon had been acting so strangely that morning when he’d come over to talk about the paper. He hadn’t expected Tim to deny it. In Kon’s mind, Tim was the World’s Second Greatest Detective. How could he not have noticed that they’d been in love since they were both sixteen?
Kon must have assumed he’d been wrong and flown away embarrassed, vowing to never bring it up again.
“God, I’m an idiot,” Tim sighed. He threw his legs over the side of his bed and beckoned Kon closer. “C’mere.”
Hesitantly, Kon floated over. He first stopped a few feet away. Tim motioned him closer, then closer again until Kon landed in the space between Tim’s legs.
“Wonder Boy, you know I care about you, but this is a little close,” Kon said stiffly, eyes pained.
“Maybe for friends,” Tim agreed. He reached up and tangled his arms around Kon’s neck. When he pulled, the Kryptonian came easily. “But we’re not just friends, are we, Kon?”
“Well… the article would say we weren’t,” Kon said awkwardly, eyes darting around the room in panic.
“Kon, relax,” Tim soothed. “It’s me.”
“That’s kinda what I’m nervous about, actually,” Kon mumbled, meeting his eyes again. “What’s going on?” Tim hummed.
“You don’t think of us as ‘just friends,’ do you?” Tim inquired lowly. Kon’s bright red blush immediately vanished in a rush, replaced by a terrified white. He tried to pull away, but Tim held on tight, knowing if he truly wanted to get free, he could be across the room before Tim even noticed he was gone.
He didn’t resist Tim keeping him there.
“Tim,” Kon whined helplessly. “I’m not quite sure what you want from me here.”
“I want you to kiss me,” Tim responded simply, smiling apologetically. “I thought that was pretty clear.
“Sorry?” Kon squeaked.
“I’m an idiot, Kon,” Tim explained.
“You’re not. You’re like the smartest person I know!” Kon denied immediately. Tim chuckled.
“Thank you, Kon. But if we’re talking about personal emotional intelligence, I put myself in the Bat percentile.”
“Where’s that?” Kon asked.
“So close to zero that the only people we beat out are each other,” Tim answered. Kon laughed.
“That’s fair,” he agreed.
“So I’m such an idiot,” Tim began. Kon opened his mouth to disagree, and Tim cut him off with a smile. “Emotionally, I’m such an idiot, because you’ve been right in front of me for years, making me fall in love with you, and it took me 7 years and Dick practically beating me over the head with it for me to figure it out.”
“Oh,” Kon whispered, blushing again.
“And it took me you coming here as soon as I called for you and telling me that you love me the way Clark loves Lois for me to figure out you felt the same,” Tim admitted.
It was a true testament to how much he meant it that he told Kon he’d messed up. As emotionally stunted as he was, he at least knew himself well enough to know he hated admitting when he’d made a mistake. He was trusting Kon not to hold this against him. Tim thought that said a lot more than he could say with words alone.
“Oh,” Kon repeated. Then he grinned, wide, bright, and gorgeous, and how had it taken Tim so long to realize he was attracted to this man? “So, Mr. Drake-Wayne. You’re saying you changed your mind?”
“Indubitably so, Mr. Kent-Luthor,” Tim agreed. Then he pulled Kon down for a well-overdue kiss.
(-0-)(-0-)(-0-)
Two days later, the Gotham Gazette published another article. This time, when Tim read it, he smiled and leaned into Kon’s side, saying, “I owe Dick a pastry basket, or something.”
The headline read: “Wayne and Luthor Heirs Caught Looking Dishevelled in Wayne Enterprises Lobby, Which Could Mean Nothing.”
“Oh, yeah,” Kon agreed, fiddling with Tim’s hair as he floated the newspaper towards himself. “He deserves one for being the reason for this picture of you alone. This angle is doing great things for your ass.” Tim laughed and placed a short kiss on Kon’s smiling lips.
“Alert the presses,” he squawked jokingly.
“Luthor Heir Compliments Wayne Heir’s Frankly Fantastic Bottom, Which Could Mean Nothing,” Kon teased, once again in his awful transatlantic accent. Tim broke down into laughter.
“Actually, it kinda means a lot,” Tim said eventually, after he’d calmed himself down.
“Yeah,” Kon agreed. “It kinda does.”