by Weirdness Magnet

April 5, 2006 

Summary: Tim and Kon finish their discussion. 

Rating: Adults only.  Angstfic.  You've been warned. 

Disclaimer.  Don't own them, just borrowing.  Promise to put them back when I'm done. 

Timeline: Takes places during/right after TT#14. Spoilers within. 

Title: From "Pensacola" by Jolene. 

** 

Kon sits on the gargoyle again and tries very hard to not think about how many nights Tim has sat here. 

He hates Gotham.  He hates the endless whining of its people and the smell of brine mixed with exhaust that fills his lungs with black. 

He's trying very hard to hate Tim, too, because it makes things easier, and thinking of reasons to despise his best friend isn't as hard as it should be.   

Tim quit without so much as saying goodbye. 

He had the balls to give me the "let's be friends" speech. 

All his goddamned *secrets*.  

Kon presses his fingertips on the gargoyle's head, listens to the sounds of the city.  Somewhere far away, someone is bleeding to death.

He doesn't care about me any more.

Maybe he never did.

And he knows, he *knows* it's not true, but he also knows that no matter how important he might have been to Tim, that something (someone) else was *more* important.

He can't help but listen for the voice in the distance. Tim's voice, near one that must be his father's. Laughing.

He has *no* idea how he's going to explain this to Bart.

Kon hears Tim say something like, "Be back in a few, Dad," and footsteps, and running water.

And then,

"I don't know if you're still listening for me or not, Kon. I hope you are." 

Kon has to shut his eyes. Sharp inhale of grimy air to tamp back the bubble of *something* welling up in his chest.

"I wasn't just saying it. I *want* you in my life. I want... I don't want to lose you.

"And I *really* hope this running water trick works."  Kon hears Tim's little laugh, the one he saves for special occasions.

"I just... it wasn't my choice to stop being Robin. But it's my choice about *how* to do it. And I want to do it with. Um. You.

"Dammit, this is hard. This is --" And then a little sigh and Kon can almost *see* Tim dragging his fingers through his hair.

Kon presses his fingers into the gargoyle's head. He wishes briefly for Krypto.

"Just... come back. When you can.

"If you want to.

"Please." 

He hears the water shut off and Kon leans forward, puts his head on the cool stone. Wills his breathing to steady even as he thinks that this big stone gargoyle is more familiar with Tim that he is.

"He told you."

Kon *flies* off the gargoyle and turns in the air. Batman's face is unreadable, the wind behind him blowing is jagged cape towards Kon, like the shadows have fingers and they're reaching for him.

Kon can't think of anything that will make him appear less stupid than he probably already does, so he just blinks. "Yeah," he says by way of eloquent response, and keeps hovering.

Batman's mouth twitches very slightly. "Don't interfere."

And Kon really *wants* to say something to that, like, 'I wasn't planning to,' or, 'who's gonna stop me?' or even, 'why not?' but the part of him that has been through this before is already letting go, or walling it up. Eventually, Tim will be just another in the long string of people who were once in Kon's life and now just *aren't*, and the only thing he'll feel about it is numb.

He wishes it would happen faster.

Kon looks down, watches the rough waters far below his feet. "How's the new Robin working out?"  Batman's face is blank.  Kon makes a mental note to ask Clark how he gets a reaction out of this guy (usually a bad one) in nearly every conversation.  "You planning on her joining the Titans?"

Batman's cape lunges for him. "That's up to her."

Kon stands up a little straighter. Puffs up his chest a bit. "And the Titans."

If he hadn't spent so much time watching Tim's expressions, he would have missed the too-fast narrowing of the eyes and mouth-twitch before Batman's expression returns to blank.

**

Batman had a point. Kon shouldn't be here.

The lights are mostly out in the Drake household, and Kon hovers above the house. A lone lamp illuminates Tim's room.

He shouldn't be here, Kon tells himself again. He should work harder at being somewhere else.

But Tim asked us to come back, the not-yet-numb part of his brain shouts.

Kon sighs. Swoops down and taps at the window.

Tim just *appears* from nowhere and shoves the window open. Kon is absolutely sure that he shouldn't be able to do that out of uniform.

He lands deliberately lightly, and looks hesitantly at the door. "Your dad--"

"They've been asleep for hours." Tim's mouth quirks. "I can't sleep, and he tries to stay awake with me. It's not working out well for him."

"Doesn't look like it's working out well for you either."

Tim chuckles. "Man, I don't think I'm ever going to get used to a regular schedule." He looks up from under dark lashes.

He can *see* Tim's eyes, his whole face, and it looks really fucking *weird* without a mask.  Not weird-bad, exactly, but weird-naked and weird-not-the-way-he's-supposed-to-fucking-look.

Okay. Weird-bad.  Kon mentally grabs his frustration and shoves it down.

"So," Kon scratches the back of his head. "What'd you want to talk about?"  He makes his breathing very, very even. He wants to be numb. Just let Tim talk and let it pass through him and not really *feel* any of it. Put some kind of closure or some other lame-ass psychological bullshit term on it and go back to the Tower and try to explain this to the others.

To Bart. Shit. He's not going to take this well.

Kon leans carefully against the edge of Tim's desk and waits.  Tim sits on his bed and fidgets with the edge of his blanket. He opens his mouth, closes it, starts again, and fails.

"Tim, I actually *do* have to go back to the Tower tonight."

Tim stares at the floor and says, "Oh. I. I won't keep you. It's just..."

"Look, you told me to come back. I thought... well, what did you want?"

And Tim takes a deep breath and looks *up* at Kon. "You're my best friend, too. That's... that's all."

Kon tries very hard not to crush the edge of Tim's desk under his fingers. "It's... not enough."

And Tim looks *pained* but Kon manages to shake his head and stare at the laundry hamper in the corner. "That's not enough to keep you --" With us, he means to finish, but he can't *talk* around this *thing* in his chest. Heavy and palpable and aching. He wanted to be numb, but instead he's mute, and Tim is saying things that he can't really hear and don't make sense.

"--can be your friend, even like this. Just... without the costumes and the... everything." Tim is standing in front of him, hands on Kon's shoulders and trying to get Kon to look at him. His hands feel too light on Kon's shoulders, like they're barely there at all. And they're supposed to be green.

"Normal," Kon manages to say. "It'll be normal."

"Yeah." Tim tries a hopeful smile. It's not a good look for him.

Kon closes his eyes and shakes his head. "I don't know Tim Drake. Robin is my best friend. And he's gone."

"Kon!" Tim shakes him. "The suit... it doesn't *matter*. It's not important. I'm still who you've always known. *I* haven't changed."

You walked away. Robin wouldn't do that. Kon takes Tim's wrists and draws his hands away. "I can see your face. I can see your *face*, and all it does is make me wonder what else I don't know about you."

He straightens and drops Tim's hands, and moves towards the open window.

"*Kon.*"  The Voice triggers enough memory to stop him. He doesn't turn around, but feels Tim behind him, hand back on his shoulder gripping *hard* and turning him. "Look at me."

Kon's eyes dart around Tim's face. Nose, cheekbones, product-mussed hair. Tim catches his chin, makes him look at his eyes.

Blue, blue eyes.  Like Robin's eyes. Like Robin...

"I need you," Tim says quietly.

"Tim--"

"Don't leave me."

The ache in Kon's chest is crushing him. He sucks in air like he's drowning maybe, and the only thing that makes it better is Tim dragging him into a hug.

Kon chokes out, "*Robbie* -- "

Chuff of air near Kon's ear.  "You haven't called me that since --" but the rest is drowned out by Kon's low sob.

Dry, tearless crying that Tim pets him through. Scratches Kon's neck with blunt nails and squeezes him with his other arm, and Kon buries his face into Tim's neck and holds on.

Manages to hold on even after his knees give out, landing them on the carpet with a dull thud and Tim awkwardly sprawled halfway on Kon's lap. Tim rearranges himself without going far, gets comfortable so Kon can hold him. Kon can close his eyes and clutch a handful of Tim's t-shirt, pretend that it's red.

He gets his breathing controlled enough that he can draw back and look at Tim. Whose expression is this odd mixture of affection, relief, and something else Kon can't figure out.

Tim scrubs a hand through Kon's short crop of hair. "Okay?"

Kon barks a short laugh. "Maybe?"

"I was --" Tim bites his lip. "For a second there I thought you were going to leave."  Flash of teeth when Tim smiles and it's as dangerous-looking as ever. And Tim's face isn't *so* weird-looking, Kon guesses. Just takes getting used to. Maybe he could convince Tim to wear glasses to ease the transition. Kon would gladly give Tim his.  It would mean *he* wouldn't have to wear the damn things, anyway.

He's busy thinking about glasses when he realizes Tim is sort of... nuzzling him. Little brush of Tim's nose near his that wouldn't be noticeable at all if Tim didn't keep *doing* it.

It... it's *nice*. Warm and friendly. Close. Kon squeezes Tim gently, gets him a low purr.

Kon *feels* the purr rumble through Tim's chest, but also against his cheek where Tim's mouth is... not *quite* brushing his skin. Warm breath and Tim is warm in a way that Kon doesn't remember him being, and it takes a moment to remember it's because Tim isn't wearing body armor.

And he's never been sitting in Kon's lap. Well, not outside practice, anyway, where Kon's focus was more on trying not to get his ass kicked all over the Tower and less on the *feel* of Tim on him.

Which is Kon's *entire* focus now.

"This is --" he starts, and is that *his* voice? He clears his throat and tries again. "Tim, are you --"

"Hm?" And Tim's mouth *is* on his cheek. Soft and moving gently across his skin, and *oh* --

Moving down and Kon tries to pull back, tries to talk, but all he gets out is, "Rob--" before Tim swallows it with a kiss.

Soft and warm and wet, and Tim's hand is in Kon's hair, making him tip his head back slightly. It forces Kon's mouth to open wider against Tim's, letting Tim's tongue snake in and explore the edges of his teeth.

Kon makes this helpless *sound* into Tim's mouth, dragging his hands up Tim's back and rubbing between his shoulder blades. Solid muscle beneath the shirt and Kon *knew* Tim's body would be almost as hard as the armor, but didn't imagine it would feel like this. Alive and moving on his lap.

It makes Kon drag a hand to Tim's chest, and yes, he's just as solid there. Traces the curve of his collarbone and down his sternum, and Tim moans when Kon scrapes his fingers over the nub of his nipple through the cotton shirt.

He bites Tim's lip and rolls the point between his fingers, smiling when Tim jerks on his lap. Tim pulls off and gasps.

Kon grins through his own panting. "You like that."

"Yes."

"Good," and twists his fingers.

Tim arches on his lap, tossing his head back. His hand *flies* to his mouth and Kon is mildly disappointed that the sound is muffled with Tim's fist. Kon pulls Tim's hips in tight with one arm and works his nipple, alternating between squeezing and pinching and *biting* through the fabric, until Tim pats his shoulder urgently.

Kon pulls off and tries not to grin at the sight of Tim's flushed, panting face. The pink in Tim's cheeks makes his eyes look bluer. "What?"

"My parents," Tim pants.

Oh. Right. "Sorry."

Tim shakes his head. "S'okay. Come here." Tim twists off Kon's lap and stands, offers Kon a hand up. He pushes Kon towards the bed. "One sec."

Kon sits on the edge of Tim's bed while he puts CDs in the disc changer and adjusts the volume. The music comes on loud enough to conceal most noises, but not loud enough to wake the parents. Kon doesn't know where the Drake's bedroom is, but he trusts Tim to know what he's doing.

He trusts *Tim*.

"They think the music helps me sleep," Tim explains as he works the catches of Kon's boots.

"Does it?"

Tim looks at him darkly. "No. But the music makes them worry less."

Boots and socks shoved off, and Tim crawls up Kon's body. Sharp smile as he bites Kon's mouth, pressing forward enough that Kon has to lean back and brace himself on his hands. Which means Tim can open Kon's jeans with impunity.

Cool air against his cock as he's pulled out of his shorts. Tim licks Kon's mouth as he gently explores Kon's shaft with his callused fingers. Kon lets out a long, low moan as Tim draws the foreskin up over the head, squeezing gently before dragging it back down the shaft. Slow, concentrated strokes designed to make Kon *insane*.

He balls the sheets in his fists as his elbows shudder. "Tim, please... "

Tim bites Kon's neck and teases the slit with his thumb.

"You have to -- oh yeah, do that again --"

"What, that?" Tim teases, sliding the foreskin lightly back and forth over the head.

Kon groans and lets his head fall back. "*Yes*."

Tim smiles against his cheek and teases Kon's dick, and it's the lightest stroke and it's not enough but he's still going to come if Tim doesn't stop. Which he doesn't seem inclined to do, given the way he slides down between Kon's thighs, kneels on the floor and yanks Kon's pants all the way off.

Tickle of one finger against his sac, and Kon can't stop his hips from bucking. "Oh *god* --"

And Tim is still smiling that sharp, dangerous grin and just *fondles* him. Light caresses and harder squeezes on his balls, all the while lightly stroking his cock. Kon is leaking and trying not to fuck Tim's hand, and he's getting close, he can't help it, he's wanted this for so *long* --

"*Tim*..."

And Tim just reaches out with his tongue and licks the wetness off the tip. Laps at the slit and sucks, stroking the shaft and Kon can't --

"Oh fuck, Tim, suck me, suck me *please*, I -- I can't --"

Tim's eyes *flare* and he sucks Kon in, working his head up and down on the shaft. Working Kon's cock with his mouth and hand, and Kon feels Tim's tongue swirling around the head on the upstroke. He has to touch Tim, rest a hand on Tim's head and ride the up-down, has to feel the silky black on his hair and *watch* Tim do this to him. For him.

Balls his first on the back of Tim's neck to keep from ripping out his hair when he comes.

It takes a few blinks for his eyes to refocus. When he does, Tim looks entirely too pleased with himself, elbows propped on Kon's thighs.

Kon blinks again when he recognizes the music. "Dude. 'Orinoco Flow'?"

"I told you. It was a gift."

"Yeah, but you're *listening* to it."

"I just gave a *blowjob* to it. You should admire my skill."

"I admire your skill for reasons that have nothing to do with Enya."  Kon leans back on the bed as Tim climbs up beside him. "You like Enya." 

"I don't."

"You totally do. I'll bet you know all the words to that one with the unpronounceable name."

"Na Laetha Gael M'óige?"

"See? You *do* like her."

"Kon, how did you know there was a song on the album with a Gaelic name?"

"...Shut up."

And now Tim's expression is really quite incorrigible, which means Kon has to grab Tim's wrists in one hand and pin them above his head against the mattress. Tim wriggles just a bit -- he's not *trying* to escape, and even if he was, Kon could restrain him with his TK -- but Kon snakes his other hand down and cups him through his jeans. Squeezes once, firmly, enough to make Tim hiss.  Kon rubs him with the heel of his hand, and Tim spreads his legs wider. Tim bites his lip and moans quietly.

"Tim," Kon says, rubbing steadily, "I'm not -- I won't *lose* you."

"Kon --"

"I need you and you're *mine*."

Squeezes him again and Tim arches into his hand. Tim nods and pants, "I'm -- I'm yours. Do what –- "

Kon has to close his eyes, rest his lips against Tim's cheek. "Say it."

"Anything you want."

And that's just... Kon can't *think*. He wants a lot, but mostly -- "I want to make you come."

Tim bites his lip and nods. "I will, I -- I'm *hard* for you. Can you feel --"

Kon rubs the bulge in Tim's jeans steadily, riding the thrusts of his hips. "I want it to be good. You made me come so *hard*, Tim, I want to do that to you." He's babbling, he's sure of it, but Tim is humping against his hand, he still has his *pants* on, biting his lip and making little needy noises. "I want to make you come so hard... I want you to *need* me."

"I *do*, god, I *need* you, Kon --"

"I want you to call my name when you come..."

Tim arches against the hand holding him down. "I --I'm gonna come in my *pants*, Kon, please – "

Kon pulls both hands away. Tim curls in on himself a little, making an almost *hurt* noise. It only takes a moment for Kon to get Tim's pants open and pushed down his thighs and off, and he's between Tim's thighs and vaguely hears Tim say, "Do you--" but Kon isn't listening.  Just opens his mouth and sucks him in. 

Works his tongue along the underside of the shaft, concentrates on pressing up when he gets near the head before sliding back down.  Tim gasps and digs his fingers into Kon's shoulder, and Kon blindly reaches for Tim's hand and puts it on his head. 

Tim slides his other hand into Kon's hair.  "You want me to – god, fuck your mouth?" 

Kon groans around Tim's cock and squeezes the base.

"Shit," Tim breathes, and grips Kon's head with both hands before pulling Kon's head up and *shoving* him back down.  Over and over, until Kon can feel Tim nudging the back of his throat, and it makes his eyes water and it's a really good thing he doesn't have to breathe often because he *can't*.  Tim fills his mouth and arches and, "Oh, fuck, *Kon* -- "

It takes a moment for Tim to uncurl his fingers enough for Kon to pull off.  He slides up Tim's body, brushes a long strand of air out of Tim's eyes and watches the flush fade from his cheeks.  "You okay?"

Tim nods drowsily. "Uh, huh. Just... yeah."

Kon nudges Tim's hip until he's lying on his side, props himself on his elbow and rubs Tim's back. Tim sighs softly, looks back at him.

"What?" Kon asks.

"Nothing."  Tim is smiling just a little, and Kon thinks he can hear everything Tim isn't saying but knows Tim well enough to know he's probably wrong about that.  He realizes Tim's bare face doesn't look so strange to him any more. Kon wonders when that happened.

He must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing he knows is Tim poking his arm sharply. "Kon. Your communicator. Wake up."

"Huh?" Kon rubs his eyes.

Tim shoves the earpiece at him. "It went off."

He doesn't remember taking it out.  "So why didn't you – never mind." Kon sticks the tiny device in his ear. "I'm here."

Tim turns away and changes out the CDs. His face is blank, and Kon knows -- he *knows* -- that it takes Tim everything in his being not to ask.

Kon signs off, and wonders if it's really possible to be friends without the mask.

He pulls his socks on. "I'm sorry, I have to go. There's --"

"I know." Tim smiles wanly. "I have the t-shirt, remember?"

"Yeah." Kon scrubs a hand through his hair and wonders briefly how Lois deals with Clark running off all the time. Probably better than Tim, because there's only a point to which Lois will go running into danger, whereas Tim would be busy not only running towards the danger but also thinking of extremely efficient ways the make the danger wish it had never gotten out of bed.

God, this sucks.

"This is weird," he says instead.

"That wasn't what you were thinking."

"No, but I'm trying to be supportive of your choices."

Tim snorts. "How surreal is it that a choosing to *not* to dress up in a costume and fight crime is considered 'bad'?"

"Pretty odd," He moves closer to Tim, cups his cheek. "Look, I'm not *trying* to be negative here. I'm not used to it, that's all. You've got your reasons; I get that. But you should know, I don't care what you do, or what your parents say, or -- or what the *Bat* says, I'm. You're just -- you're *not* getting rid of me."

And Tim just... smiles. Timidly at first, but. "All right."

Kon rubs the edge of Tim's smile with his thumb. "I should go."

"You should."

"Don't want to."

"You can come back."

Kon frowns. "As Superboy, or as Conner Kent?"

Tim thinks. "Probably wise to ease my dad into it. At least until he comes to terms with the idea that I can maintain a 4.0 on no sleep."

Kon nods. "I'll show up in the glasses-and-plaid ensemble and bribe him with a plate of Mrs. Kent's fudge.  Nobody can resist her fudge."

"Thank god she uses her powers for good," Tim comments dryly.  "Skip the glasses. They don't do anything for you." His eyes flare with that *heat* that makes Kon need to...

He's never getting out of here. He's never letting Tim go.   

But Tim said that was okay.

Kon decides to take him at his word.

~end