But No Cigar

by Weirdness Magnet
10-1-2004

Disclaimers: DC owns them.  I borrow them when I need distractions from schoolwork, but I make no money.

Spoilers: Up To Teen Titans 14.  Takes place sometime after that.

Summary: Tim returns to find things aren't exactly the way he left them.

Ratings Note/Warnings: NC-17.

Author's Note: The boys wouldn't leave me alone to study.  I wrote this to shut them the hell *up*.

Acknowledgments:

**
Things aren't quite the way Tim left them.

Returning to his life as Robin could have been a lot worse, but coming to the Tower on weekends feels a lot like coming home after a long absence: the place and the people are everything he remembers, but not *quite*.

And it's not like anything is *bad*, really. Bart practically threw himself at Tim the minute he walked in the door and Tim has done a fairly subtle job of keeping an eye on him. Tim wonders if he should come out and tell Bart he's not going to quit again. He decides against it -- it requires a certain emotional subtlety Tim admits he just doesn't possess.

Everyone else has been fine. Kori's welcoming hug lasted about five minutes too long, which was about ten minutes shorter than the one Cassie gave him. Vic had opted for a manly handshake that made Tim grateful for every scrap of armor plating in the new gauntlets, while Gar went for the more affectionate yet still manly hug-with-back-patting.

Kon just... smiled. Right before sticking out his hand and muttering, "Glad to have you back, man."

Which was the best welcome-home he'd gotten. Tim would have appreciated its simplicity even more at the time if he'd had any notion of just how out-of-the way everyone was going to go to make him feel welcome. And yeah, he *is* glad to be back, but the constant invitations to *do* things went past annoying a week ago.  Tim intends to beat Bart with his staff if he suggests one more time to train with Kon.

The looks Kon has been trying to hide don't make him feel better. There's something unsettling about the thought of Kon trying to hide things from him.

The looks he's seen passing between Bart and Kon are downright suspicious.

Paranoia is his way of life (again), and he admits his observation skills have gotten a tad... not "rusty", he tells himself, just a little out of practice. He'll be better within a week.

Sooner, if Bart and Kon keep passing notes during team meetings. Keeping an eye on those two is the best brush-up in covert observation he could have asked for. He decides *not* to tell Bruce that.

Tim rearranges his legs and resettles the laptop. It's finally quiet and he can get some work done. He adds his notes to last week's patrol reports and replies to Dick's last e-mail about getting together for another Verhoven film-fest on Wednesday. Tim stifles a yawn (it's only two in the morning, for God's sake) and then it hits him.

He hasn't heard noises for the last few minutes.

As a rule, the Titans are day-people, but he's not usually the only one awake at any given time. Bart doesn't really sleep any more, and usually there's a blur as he passes through the living room to the kitchen for yet another snack. Or Gar comes in late from one of his dates. Sometimes Tim can hear Vic clanking around just before first light.

But it's rare that Tim is ever undisturbed. He finds the solitude slightly unsettling. He decides not to mention that to Bruce, either.

He's almost relieved when he sees Bart blurring through the living room. Tim watches his trail make three laps around the sofa until he realizes Bart is being chased by a black-and-blue trail.  Kon.

Tim watches their trails zipping around the living room, disappearing into the kitchen, brief shouting and the sound of something expensive meeting an untimely end, and the blurs tearing back through the living room and down a darkened hallway.

Tim sets the laptop aside. Depending on the amount of collateral damage, they're either fighting or playing tag. He wanders into the kitchen. All that's broken is a single potted plant, one of Kori's mystery herbs that she insists on using in spaghetti sauce.

Tim hastily repots the frond in a cappuccino mug. If Kon and Bart were playing tag, there'd be more broken objects. Tim's mind instantly shifts to topics they might be fighting about and worst-case scenarios, and he follows their trail down the hallway and down the... stairs?

**
Nobody ever comes down here. Vic is the only one, and that's mostly just to replace bits of the machinery that occasionally go awry, and that's a rare occurrence. It's essentially the Tower's boiler room, if a boiler room were fitted with state-of-the-art heating units. It's immaculately clean, but the room is still filled with piping and electrical conduits and it's noisy as hell. It gives the place the impression of an old high-school boiler room, a dark corner away from the rest of the building's life.

It's an interesting locale for a discussion, especially one as intense as Bart and Kon appear to be having. Tim draws his cape around him a little more and watches through the crack in the doorway.

He can't hear much over the noise of the machines, and his amplifier wouldn't help much given the amount of background noise. It doesn't matter. Kon's back is mostly towards him, but Tim can see Bart's face clearly enough to read his lips.

Bart shakes his head and protests. Tim makes out, "--not like that" and "--trying to help."

Tim sees the back of Kon's head shake when Bart tries to put a hand on his shoulder. Bart pulls back and looks... wounded.

"I was trying to make things better," Bart says.

Kon says something, hands moving almost angrily. He turns his body a little and Tim can just see the edge of Kon's mouth to decipher, "--asked you to? I don't need you shoving me at Tim."

Kon is *looming* and Bart backs up a little, but Kon follows him. Moving him backwards, and Tim reaches very slowly for a batarang. He probably doesn't *need* one, but. He finds the habits of cautiousness are the most comforting. Tim thumbs the flat metal and judges the distance.

"I was just --" Bart tries, but Kon holds up a hand. Moves Bart back, back, and now Kon's back is to him and he can't see his mouth anymore.

Fuck, Tim thinks, and pulls out the amplifier. He makes a quick adjustment while keeping one eye on them. It probably won't work in here but--

"--ow what you thought," Tim hears Kon say. He makes another quick tweak and the machine noise isn't quite so eardrum-shattering.

"You thought," Kon continues, backing Bart closer to the wall, "now that Tim's back, I wouldn't--"

"Kon, I just --" Bart makes a 'meep' sound when his back hits the wall. He rises up on his toes like he could either move back further or possibly climb *up* the wall. It still doesn't give him much height when dealing with a Looming Kon. "I know how you feel about Tim. I spent the last two *months* with you dealing with how you feel about Tim, and with everything that's happened--"

Kon plants a hand near Bart's head. Leans in close and Bart's eyes are *wide* but not with fear (exactly) and that's the only reason Tim doesn't hurl the batarang at Kon's head right then.

Kon straightens, drawing himself up to his full height and steps back. "You don't get it."

There's a... *hardness* in Kon's voice that Tim doesn't recognize. Or maybe it's just a control he didn't use to have, because Bart's hands are suddenly *yanked* above his head and he's pulled bodily up the wall and off the floor until he's eye level with Kon.

Kon's been practicing. A lot. Tim makes a note.

Tim watches Bart's hands flex against the unseen aura holding him up. Kon moves closer, whispering, and Tim's amplifier only picks up every other syllable. It's all right because Kon turns his face a little until Tim can see part of Kon's mouth.

But he isn't speaking. He's... nuzzling Bart's cheek.

"You don't get it," Kon says again, and Tim knows how soft his breath must be on Bart's face because Bart's eyes just *flutter* closed and he wriggles against the aura.

"You're here," Kon says against Bart's cheek. "You're *always* here, even when the rest of us are falling apart and running away."

"Kon," Bart whines, and Tim can *hear* that in the amplifier.

"*I* was falling apart," Kon murmurs, and he drags his hands up Bart's thighs to his hips and gives them a squeeze. "But you were here, dragging me kicking and screaming out of my funk and giving me exactly what I needed, even when I didn't know what that *was*." He lifts Bart's legs up around his waist, and Bart bites his lip and hooks his ankles around Kon's waist.

Tim watches Kon cup Bart's cheek, sees Kon's other hand move between them. He isn't sure what Kon's doing until he *is*, right when he hears the zipper sound and sees Bart arching against the TK hold.

"*Kon*," Bart pleads. Kon trails gentle bites along Bart's throat.

Part of Tim's brain registers that he's still thumbing the edge of his batarang. He puts it away with a quiet click and thinks briefly about going back upstairs.

Very briefly, because Kon licks Bart's earlobe until Bart makes noises loud enough for the amplifier to pick up, and Tim can't seem to move from his position in the doorway.

Kon bites soft kisses along Bart's jaw. "You always know what I need. And you know what I like. And I know," Tim watches the flex of Kon's shoulder as he moves his hand, "that you like giving it to me."

"Kon, please, I --" Bart lets out a whine when Kon drags the hand from his face, down Bart's chest, around his hips until it disappears somewhere behind Bart. His cleft, Tim thinks, and get confirmation when Bart shudders *violently*.

Bart is moaning, *writhing* in Kon's hold, but Kon slowly nuzzles Bart's face. He's not quite as controlled as he'd like Bart to think, because Tim watches Kon's hips buck involuntarily and sees Bart's hands slide across the wall several inches before Kon gets his TK back under control.

"Please, you're gonna --" Bart's head rolls back and forth on the wall, eyes closed and panting, and Tim realizes exactly how *hard* he is inside his jock. He should... he should *definitely* be elsewhere, and he starts to move away from the door when Kon says,

"I need it. Give me what I need, please."

And Bart doesn't even think, just jerks his head in a nod and pants, "Anything."

Which makes Tim just... twitch *hard* and he has to lean on the doorframe to keep from falling against the wall. He tries to keep his face in shadow as he watches Kon pull Bart off the wall and stand him on unsteady feet. Kon holds him up as they kiss, wet and messy and Bart is way past any kind of control. He fumbles at Kon's jeans, yanking them open and shoving them and Kon's shorts halfway down his thighs.

Kon *grins* as Bart shoves him to the floor. Tim bites his lip and *has* to rub the heel of his hand against the front of his tights. Part of his brain is screaming at him to get out of there, but he can't stop *watching*.

Bart yanks and tugs at Kon until he's on all fours. Kon's cock is hangs heavy and dark and it's shiny at the tip. Tim resists the urge to wet his lips.

Bart shoves his own pants down. He squeezes his own cock once, hard, closing his eyes and trying to breathe. Then he reaches in to Kon's jeans pocket and pulls out a small travel-size packet of lube.

Tim can honestly say he never thought Kon would be the type to carry lube, especially not little "just in case" packets. Alarms go off in the part of his brain not devoted to thinking about how *hard* he is, because Kon carrying lube means he's got occasions to use it and apparently frequently enough to carry it in his *uniform* and that leads to...

... Completely unimportant thoughts, because he watches Bart slick his own cock and give a small brush of lube to Kon's cleft. Kon bites his lip and pushes his hips back. Tim expects Bart to prepare Kon, but Bart just drops the empty packet aside, lines up, and shoves in.

*All* the way on one stroke, and Kon lets out a yell but it's not pain, it's not pain at *all* because his head is tossed back, mouth open and pushing back to meet each thrust. Bart moves quickly, long, *hard* strokes, and Kon just pushes back like no matter how hard or fast or *good* it is, it's also not *enough*.

"Yes, oh *fuck* yes --"

And Tim... *can't* look away. He tightens his grip on the doorframe and bites his lip to keep from groaning at the *look* on Kon's face when Bart shoves in hard. Kon *needs* this and Bart has no hesitation about giving it to him, and watching them makes Tim slide his hand inside his tights and *squeeze* his shaft.

Starts to stroke himself when he sees Bart trying to keep a steady rhythm and failing. "Kon, I -- I can't... waited too long --"

"Don't stop," Kon whimpers. "Not even after you come, keep going --"

Tim watches Bart dig his fingers in to Kon's hips. "I won't, I promise, I -- oh *god* you feel good --"

Tim squeezes his dick again, pre-come dribbling out the tip. One hand braced on the doorframe, cape concealing the hand working his cock and he bites his lip when the amplifier sends Bart's orgasm echoing through his brain.

Bart doesn't pause, just makes his strokes longer, *harder*, until Kon drops to his elbows. He's not pushing back any more, he's just letting Bart *take* him and whimpering against the concrete floor.

Bart tosses his head back. "God... oh *god*, Kon --" Tim sees Bart hasn't softened at all, still hard and he's shaking, close to vibrating, and Tim realizes Bart's going to come again. Knows it for sure when he reaches around and takes Kon's cock in hand. He doesn't stroke, just lets his body's own shaking drive Kon to the edge. Tim watches Kon's eyes squeeze shut, mouth open and screaming over the sound of the machines, filling Tim's head until he can't look any more. He has to turn his head into the cape and bite to bury the sound of his own orgasm.

He thinks he can hear the patter of Kon's come hitting the concrete floor.

Tim raises his head to see Bart slumped over Kon's back, sex-stupid grin and closed eyes and Bart looks... sweet. Innocent. Happy.

Right until Bart blinks his eyes open and his gaze falls on the doorway.

Tim watches Bart's face change and makes a hasty retreat into the shadows.

**
Tim runs his fingers through his damp hair. He'd managed to get a (freezing cold) shower before Bart or Kon emerged from the lower levels. He drags on his Metropolis U sweats and settles in to do the next three weeks' homework assignments when there's a tentative knock on the door.

"Come in."

"Is it safe?" Bart's muffled voice asks beyond the door.

"It's safe."

Pause. "Are you lying?"

"Bart, get in here."

Fingertips on the door's edge and Tim sees Bart's hair before anything else. "We didn't come in here at *all* when you were gone. We were scared of the traps you might have left behind."

"I didn't have to set any traps. I took all the really dangerous stuff with me."

"Oh."

"Bart, with you the *blender* constitutes a dangerous weapon."

Bart smiles, but it doesn't meet his eyes. "I'm not really like that any more."

Tim sets his book aside. "No. You really aren't."

Bart shuts the door. "You saw," he says quietly.

"Yeah." Tim shifts on the bed to make room, but Bart isn't in the mood to sit down.

"How much?" He's not moving fast, just sort of wandering around the room looking at the items Tim hasn't finished unpacking yet, careful not to touch any of them.

"Enough," Tim says. He doesn't even have to remind Bart not to touch anything. Things really have changed.

Bart nods a little, looks absently out the window. "It started about a month after you left," he says.

"You don't have--"

"You need to hear this," Bart says in a voice Tim hasn't heard before. Tim closes his mouth.

Bart swivels Tim's desk chair back and forth in his hands. "Kon was a mess after you left. The first couple of weeks, he'd fly to Gotham and sit and *listen* to you talking to your dad. Vic got on his case, so then he'd sit on the roof and watch for the Batwing."

Tim tries to think of something to say to that. He can't. It doesn't matter, because Bart's talking and spinning the chair around and around and around.

"So I started sitting with him. I was the only one he'd still talk to -- he'd managed to piss everyone off by then -- and eventually--"

"Yeah," Tim cuts him off. "I can guess the rest."

Bart very nearly glares at him. "You *really* can't." He goes back to spinning the chair around. "I know what it's like to be left behind. Kon and I understand each other." Bart lets the chair spin until it eventually slows and drifts to a halt. "But he doesn't love me."

"Bart --"

Bart looks up and smiles wanly. "I knew that going in. Doesn't make it suck less." He spins the chair again before moving to leave the room. "Just a heads up. You ever do anything like that to him again --"

"I won't."

Bart looks at him darkly. "*Good*."

"Bart, it really... leaving wasn't my choice."

Bart nods. "We found that out later. At first, all we knew was that you quit, but then we heard about... everything." He looks at Tim. "It didn't help. Kon was pissed that you were gone and then he found out you did it for good reasons, like always, and that just made it --"

"I know," Tim says, sliding off the bed. He puts a hand on Bart's shoulder. "Believe me, if there had been any other way--"

"I know." Bart puts a hand over Tim's. "He's still pissed at you."

"I figured."

"It won't last." Bart's eyes are sad again, and it makes Tim want to... *do* something. Maim something large or hug him or offer to teach him how to make something explosive just to watch his eyes brighten a little.

"It'll be okay," is all Tim can think of to say.

Bart smiles with his sad eyes. "Yep. Now that you're back." He tugs away and moves towards the door. "Kon said something about making popcorn and watching the new Jet Li DVD. You in?"

Tim smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring way. It's hard to tell how much will come through since the eye shields are down and he doesn't show teeth when he smiles. "I'm in. Be down in a second."

Bart vanishes in a blur. Tim digs through his duffle looking for a pair of socks. His fingers find something paper.

He unfolds an old, old picture of the three of them at their old cave. Red Tornado must have taken it; there's a smudgy red thumb in the top right corner. The image is a frozen moment of the three of them falling all over each other to mug for the camera, grinning faces and a tangle of arms and legs. Things change. He tries not to think about how much.

Tim sets the picture on his nightstand, and goes downstairs.

~end
 

~end