Management Strategies 

by Weirdness Magnet

April 13, 2004

Summary: Tim has trouble adjusting to life after Robin.  Kon doesn't know how to help.

Disclaimers: Tim and Kon aren't mine.  If they were, I'd chain them to my bed.

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: Post-Robin Tim

Title: From Ann Douglas: “The truths we accept are so multiple that honesty becomes little more than a strategy by which you manage your tendencies toward duplicity.”

***

Not wearing the suit makes everything an act of bravery.  

It's *just* Tim doing things and people can see his face when he does them. The absence of a mask is supposed to be part of what makes his life simpler, but it so completely doesn't.
 

Kon looks less exposed in a thin button-down shirt than Tim does in his sweater and jacket. 

And Kon is standing on Tim’s front porch and *looking* at him like he's never seen Tim before, and well... he hasn't, really. Even on the occasions when Tim didn't wear the mask.

Which was almost never, now that he thinks about it.
 

Tim has to work *hard* not to look away while Kon studies him. The weight of the Kon's gaze is almost more oppressive than every way Bruce ever looked at him.

No, not oppressive, exactly. Tim can just *feel* it crawling on his skin, like insects.
 

Kon stares at him long enough that Tim's on the verge of finding something sharp to throw (ballpoint pen in left pocket), but Kon finally speaks. "Um. Hey."

"What are you doing here?"  Tim casts a quick glance down the street, which is devoid of foot traffic.  The empty garage indicates his parents are still out shopping, but.

Tim suspects the caution will be the last thing to fade.

Kon pushes the glasses up his nose.  "I just wanted to see how you were. With everything. You... you look good." Kon manages to get it out without shuffling his feet or looking away or anything. Tim smirks internally.

Then he remembers he's *supposed* to have facial expressions now. So he smirks externally too.
 

 Kon's eyes widen. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"That's either an I'm-plotting-your-death look, or a we're-going-to-die-but-remain-seated look. None of them work out well for somebody, and since I'm the only one *here*..."
 

"There was no impending death in that look. I'd know."

Kon smiles just a little, relief flitting over his face before the weird settles back in. This time Kon actually *does* shuffle his feet. "I just. We really haven't talked since... everything, and..." Kon's eyes meet Tim's, and the color is that odd not-quite-blue they get when he's thinking hard. Tim wonders if it has something to do with the heat vision. "I can't believe you're okay with all this."

 "Kon, it was *my* idea."

"That doesn't mean it's a good one. Okay, usually it *does*, but Tim, are you--"

"I'm fine, Kon. Batman's taken care of, my parents are almost not freaking out when I leave the house, and I'm learning the miracle that is an all-cotton wardrobe. It's fine."

“Really.”  Kon folds his arms and gives Tim a *look*.

Tim considers commenting about which genetic donor Kon looks like right now.  "I've even got a friend," he says instead. "From school and everything."

Kon puts his hands on Tim's shoulders. "Okay, now? You're trying too hard."

Tim centers and breathes, and *then* manages to look up. The round glasses really don't do anything for Kon's face. God, he's already hung around Bernard too long.

"I don't know any other way to try."

It's Kon's turn to take a breath, squeezing Tim's shoulders hard enough to be painful. Tim realizes that Kon always touched him through the body armor, when he *had* to press harder just so Tim could feel it.

It makes Tim feel very, very naked.

Kon lowers his head, his forehead nearly touching Tim's. "Let's get out of here. We could go someplace and talk."

We could *fly* someplace and talk.  The idea of leaving the ground makes something lurch inside.  Tim swallows it back down.

"No." It comes out harsher than he meant. "I mean. My parents aren't home now. We can talk here." He turns out of Kon's grasp and heads inside. He tries not to focus on how painfully teenager-ish it feels to bring someone home while the parents are out.

If Bernard finds out, he really *will* insist on Tim throwing a party.

Kon looks around the den a little, like he expects Dana (or worse) to pop out of the shadows. Tim slides off his coat and watches him and makes an effort to let his amusement show on his face.

"Your house doesn't look like I expected."

"It's brighter than the Cave.  Drywall and everything."

Kon grins. "And there are fewer sharp objects around."

Tim remembers the ballpoint pen in his pocket.

Kon is still smiling when he sits down next to Tim, and his eyes are blue again but with a glint of red. Tim wonders if Kon has gotten the heat vision under control yet or if he's going to have to invent a story to explain a scorch mark on the couch.

Tim doesn't think the lying is ever, really, going to stop.
 

He rubs his eyes a little at the thought. If it happened, he *could* tell his parents the truth. Robin knows Superboy. He stopped by to say hi, one thing led to another, sorry about the burns on the upholstery. He could convince Kon to take off the button-down and the ridiculous glasses and stand up straight and ta-da, instant honesty. And it wouldn't have to compromise Kon's secrets.

Much.

Tim rubs his eyes some more.  He feels the heavy hand squeeze his shoulder, less painful this time. More careful.

"Tim?"

"I was just thinking about betraying you."

Tim *really* wishes he had a camera right now. Kon hasn't looked that horrified since the last time Kori cooked dinner.

"I'm not going to, you know. I was just..." Quitting was supposed to make things *less* complicated.
 

"Tim? If you're trying to convince me you're okay, you're kind of sucking at it."

Tim's laugh is genuine, if short. "I'm having honesty issues."

"*That’s* hard to imagine."

Tim scrubs a hand in his hair. "People do things all the time without thinking about them. I'm not sure how to do that."
 

Harder squeeze on his shoulder. "You'll learn. I mean, if that's what you want."

"I don't know how to sit in a room. *Just* sit. And don't get me started on facial expressions."

Kon runs his thumb along Tim’s shoulder.  "You could always try doing... um. Something."

I raise my hand in class.  I go to coffee shops with Bernard and ignore him checking out the waiters.   I call my dad when I'm going to be out past nine.  "I *am* doing things." 
 

"You could do something impulsive. Y'know, to get used to doing stuff without thinking.  You, um... I dunno. I could call Bart. He could think of something."
 

Tim's quirks an eyebrow. "I could *practice* being impulsive."

"Um. Yeah.  Maybe."

Tim slumps back in the couch. "Well, *this* is cheering me right up."
 

Kon gives him a nearly-pained look. "I have *no* idea how to help here, man."

I wish you could make this easier for me. I wish you were *just* Conner Kent so you could visit and not freak out my parents. I wish I had gloves on. 
 

He looks over at Kon, who's got a "tell me what to do" look.

Tell me it wasn't a mistake, Tim wants to ask. Tell me everything's going to be okay.  Tell me you’ll show up on my doorstep to check on me even after I’ve told you not to.

Tim doesn’t say anything.  Because even if Tim *could* ask, there’s really nothing Kon can say that will make his life stop being exactly as fucked up as it is. 

Tim doesn’t want to think about that.

He kisses Kon instead.
 

Kon makes a surprised "mmrf" sound against Tim's mouth. Tim ignores it, and just pushes Kon back into the couch and grabs his hair.  He licks until Kon's tongue twines with his, sucks at it and wraps his arms around Kon's shoulders and just hangs on.

Kon cups a hand around the back of Tim's head, holding and rubbing the short hairs on his neck. His thumb grazes Tim’s pulse and it just makes him push harder against Kon's mouth.
 
Tim feels a small push against his shoulder and he pulls off, watching Kon gasp. Kon’s lips are shiny and used-looking.

"Is this your idea of an impulsive act?" Kon breathes.

Tim shakes his head.  "I've thought about doing that for... a while now."

Kon's eyes flutter shut. "*God*, Tim."

Tim traces Kon's mouth with his thumb. "I can be honest now, right? That was the point."

He pushes in a little until Kon sucks on his finger, wet with just a graze of teeth that makes Tim’s cock twitch hard in his jeans.
 

Kon’s eyes are questioning as Tim leans forward and nuzzles. "Tell me you're okay with this. Lie to me if you have to, just... don't ask me to stop. Because--"

Because I don't want to. Because I can't. Because--

"--because I need this."

Kon *groans* around Tim's finger, yanks it out of his mouth and kisses Tim *hard*. Tim tastes the metallic tang where Kon's teeth grazed his lip and it's sweet and hard and nearly perfect.

He misses the way bleeding feels.

Tim pushes that thought aside when Kon bucks against him the first time. He bites the spot on Kon's neck again and again until Kon clutches Tim's hips and grinds up into him, urgent hisses through clenched teeth. Tim *wants* to mark him, knows that he can’t, and that fact makes him bite *harder*.

"*Jesus*, Tim." Kon’s warm hands clutch Tim's shoulders, holding him against the not-bruised skin.  Tim alternates between kissing, sucking and biting until Kon bucks up so hard Tim has to hang on *tight* with his knees to keep from being thrown off. He grabs on tighter and looks at Kon's flushed face.

"Your glasses are foggy."

"*Fuck*, Tim, you... *god*." Kon yanks off the glasses and tosses them, and Tim hears them skitter across the coffee table. Kon drags him into a kiss, holding his head with one hand and opening Tim's jeans with the other.
 

Cool air on his skin and Tim had no idea he was leaking that much until he feels Kon's fingers rubbing the wetness down his shaft. Kon lets go and Tim *moans* at the loss of contact, until he looks down and sees Kon pulling his own jeans open. Tim’s hands tangle with Kon’s when he reaches down to pull Kon out of his boxers. The head is nudging out of the foreskin and Tim has to stroke it, has to squeeze out a drop of Kon's pre-come and wipe it off with a finger and *taste*.
 

Salty and a flavor of something faintly alien, and Tim sucks his finger until he only tastes his own skin. Tim opens his eyes and Kon's *staring* at him, panting slightly and stroking Tim's hips.

"*God*, you are so fucking sexy, Tim."

Tim's eyes narrow, and he remembers too late that he doesn't have to do it so much for Kon to see it. He kisses Kon and makes him taste the faint trace of himself.
 

Their cocks bump when Tim leans forward, making them both groan.  Tim wraps a hand around both of them and strokes. Kon makes a desperate noise against Tim's mouth and Tim feels Kon's fingers twining with his. Kon's hand urges Tim's faster, harder, and Tim presses his fading calluses against Kon's shaft.
 

Kon breaks off and gasps, "Oh, fuck, *Tim*..." He brings a hand to Tim's mouth and *pushes* two fingers in.

The fingers taste like salt and Kon, and Tim sucks on them, biting the tips as Kon slides them in and out. Tim works his tongue around them, watching the dilated pupils and faint red in Kon's eyes.

Kon pulls his fingers out and slides his hand down the back of Tim's jeans. Tim feels the wet in his cleft and the *push* that's harder than he expected, but Kon is breathing hard and *fucking* Tim's fist, and control is rapidly becoming one of the other items on Tim's list of Things to Forget.

*Burn* of the fingers in his ass, and Tim's trying to breathe through it even as Kon forces his hand to pump faster around their cocks. Kon's breathing is ragged, hips jerking and his fingers are *brutal* inside Tim.
 

Tim bites his bleeding lip through the hard, steady thrusts until Kon twists his hand and hits Tim *there*, tearing the scream out. Kon whispers in his ear, scissoring and stretching Tim’s ass while he makes Tim squeeze their cocks on the upstroke.

"I want... I want to see you *lose* it..."

He'd like to see that, too.

Kon *shoves* against his prostate and Tim *spasms* hot all over their hands. Kon *whines* against Tim's neck and shudders, pressing his fingers deep inside Tim and just holding on through his own orgasm.
 

Tim waits until Kon relaxes enough so he can ease them back onto the couch.  Tim draws their hands up to his mouth and licks them clean. He tastes himself and Kon's strange taste, sucking it all until he just tastes skin and the blood from his lip.

He opens his eyes to find Kon watching him. It's not quite a leer, and Tim *would* like to find out what Kon's recovery time is like, but they've been left alone too long already.  It’s a matter of time before Tim’s parents get home, and there’s no point in inviting even more questions about the secrets Tim’s been keeping from them. Though he suspects being gay really would be a minor one on the list.

He tucks himself back in his jeans and reaches for Kon's glasses. By the time he straightens, Kon's jeans are zipped, his shirt straightened and he is once again the perfect picture of clean Smallville living.  Tim decides not to mention that, either.

Tim hands Kon the glasses, and ponders getting himself a pair just to have the feeling of something on his face again.

Kon straightens them on his nose. "Is this the part where you kick me out and we swear never to mention this again?"

Tim snorts and climbs off Kon's lap. "Depends on if you ever want to do it again."

Kon blinks slowly and Tim watches him considering his response. Kon kind of looks like Krypto when he's deciding whether to eat something or pee on it.  "And if I do?"

"Then you go now, before my parents get back, and you come see me on your way back from the Tower next weekend."

"I was hoping for a *little* cuddling."

Tim's death glare isn't *nearly* as effective without the mask. He's taking Bernard with him tomorrow to find a pair of glasses.

Tim manages to shove Kon out the front door as Tim hears the garage door opening. He sits on the couch and channel surfs until he hears his dad and Dana finish rustling plastic grocery bags in the kitchen.

His dad looks a little too relieved when he sees Tim watching TV.

It’s the little things, Tim muses, that make him appear normal. He'll have to make a list, maybe schedule some time to practice making expressions in the mirror or watching TV while looking bored. Five days' practice might reassure his parents enough so he and Kon can go to a late movie on Sunday.

He's not going to get used to this honesty thing any time soon.

~end