Re: Fill-- My kind is not your kind (3/?)ayziliaAugust 16 2011, 20:21:32 UTC
Sry for the delay. I've moved into a new house and the internet hasn't been hooked up yet. I couldn't stand it any longer, so today I took a break from unpacking and ducked out to a cafe with WiFi. Glorious, glorious internet! I've missed you so! But, anyway, onto Kon's thoughts on his new hubby...
The last time Kon had been surrounded by this many humans they’d all been wearing white lab coats (except for Luthor in his purple suit jacket) and poking at him and jotting down notes on electronic tablets. And while dress jackets and evening gowns had replaced the lab wear, Kon felt just as observed and uncomfortable now as he had then. Only two things kept him at this stupid “Successful Signing” reception: Clark’s steady presence, fortifying even from across the room where the guy was still doling out sound bites for a gaggle of human (and one or two Kryptonian) reporters, and Tim. Not that Tim’s presence helped ease the nervous energy buzzing just under his skin. Just the opposite. But to his great annoyance, Kon couldn’t take his eyes away.
His new husband seemed to push every one of the buttons Kon didn’t even know he had, just by standing there (or not looking at him from across the table). Kon swept his eyes over Tim’s lean fit form again and had to bite down on the inside of his lip against the surge of want that spiked through him. Totally unaffected, Tim continued conversing softly with his two older brothers. Kon shoved his hands in the stupid dress pants Kara had blackmailed him into. Did Tim not feel it? This stupid spark driving Kon stupidly, annoyingly, freaking crazy? Tim had only looked at him once the whole damn stupid day (wide blue eyes in a pale fine-boned face) and his apparent shyness-which at first had seemed endearing and lit up every protector instinct in Kon’s copy cat DNA and generally made him act stupidly puppy-eager-was starting to make Kon suspicious. And pissed off.
Did he not live up to the little Gotham prince’s standards or something? Too good for a clone? Kon felt his nostrils flare a little and glared at Tim’s half-turned back. Well, too bad. They’d both signed the damn treaty and the additional marriage contract and the freaking marriage license-Tim was his now. Kon nodded to himself. He always got who he set his sights after, he would this time too, and when Tim was all starry-eyed and charmed by his awesomeness… well then Kon wouldn’t have to worry about the sneaky little human being up to anything nefarious. And Kon totally wouldn’t let himself get blinded by Tim’s hotness (really, being human and all Kon hadn’t been expecting much but Tim was smoking in the most unassuming of ways) and if he tried anything that would hurt him or Clark or Kara he’d sic Krypto on the stupid bat. Yes, good plan. Kon nodded to himself and watched how Tim’s soft black hair flopped into his face when he shook his head minutely at a beseeching Dick.
As Kon watched the middle brother, Jason, scowled and punched Dick in the arm. Tim brought his hands up in a placating gesture.
Really the little dude was adorable. Kon smirked.
No, Kon frowned. He had to stay alert for sneaky behavior. Not get distracted by floppy hair… or beautifully dexterous fragile pale hands…
Oh shit, Tim was making his way across the room, painfully conscientious not to touch anyone even the slightest bit. Blue eyes flicked up from the floor to pin his and Kon felt just as winded this time as the last. Tim had his lips all pressed together in this thin tense line and what looked like a semi-permanent furrow of concentration or worry between his brows. Kon had to work to breathe deeply. He really wanted to run his fingers over those cheekbones, to smooth out that worry line, to trace that jaw line and tilt that perfect face up for a kiss.
Kon liked to touch. Clark theorized it had to do with being made in a test tube or his first power being tactile or (hey novel concept) both. Kon theorized he liked to touch because it just felt really freaking good. Especially when the touching involved a really hot chick. Or, heh, a freaking seductive human guy now standing just a scant centimeter outside of arm’s length.
Re: Fill-- My kind is not your kind (3/?)ayziliaAugust 16 2011, 20:25:32 UTC
“You were staring,” Tim spoke for the first time, his voice clear and somehow sharp despite how quietly he pitched his words. “Dick said I had to stop being anti-social and come talk to you.”
Kon decided he liked Dick. And he really liked having Tim’s eyes on him.
Tim crossed his arms over his chest. Hugging himself subtly. The thought distressed Kon (dammit he was getting all puppy stupid again) and wouldn’t freaking go away now that it’d popped into existence.
Tim frowned, “You know there are ways of watching people without being so obvious about it.”
Oh really? That so?
Kon smirked (his no-fail, go-to flirtation tool of epicness, just ask the Kryptonian ladies of Metropolis), “Yah? Heh, that mean you were watching me back, but with like ninja stealth skills?”
Tim’s hands flexed for a moment before his eyes narrowed.
“No,” he spit venom-sharp, “I was enjoying my time with my brothers. I don’t know when I’ll get to see them again.”
“Hey. Hey!” Kon protested, taken aback. He wiped his no-fail (fail) smirk off his face lickety-split. “That’s not my fault! You can thank Papa Bat’s bigoted butt for that particular aspect of our situation.”
“Bruce is just trying to protect Gotham,” Tim returned.
“From us?!” Kon realized his hands were out of his pockets and fisted. He hated bats. He knew he hated bats. With their stupid human city and their stupid prejudiced paranoia.
Tim raised an eyebrow. How the fuck did he look so fucking calm (and gorgeous) when Kon could feel himself shaking with too much rage. His stupid grace and poise made Kon feel like an over-reacting oaf. Not fair. Not cool. Kon could feeling his anger ratcheting up with every beat Tim let placidly pass.
“Your kind does seem to leave a great deal of destruction in your wake,” Tim stated in the ripened moment.
“You-”
Tim cut his protest short, “On average, a Super causes 6.31 thousand dollars worth of damage to public property per arrest. Granted that’s an average. But your last battle with, Mammoth was it?, cost the city of Memphis 867,933 dollars when the two of you managed to demolish half a courthouse.”
“Go back to your brothers.” Before I slip up and punch you and mess up your pretty face.
Tim’s face, his voice, went frosty, “You don’t get to give me orders.”
Kon ground his teeth and reminded himself of the press. With cameras. And stupid electronic tablets to jot down notes. “We’ll see, little buddy.”
Tim didn’t move a muscle. He looked hard and icy and totally unmovable. But Kon could hear the racing heart and smell the apprehension.
Kon felt his anger ebb. He sighed, an angry huff of air, “Go. You want to anyway.”
Tim breathed though his nose and glared with his eyes. If humans had laser vision (and Kon weren’t like invulnerable) Kon would totally be a disturbingly small pile of ash.
“Oh really, stop being obstinate!” Kon bit out.
Tim just continued to hold himself statue tense. He raised a single eyebrow at Kon’s small aborted movements.
“Fine!” Kon hissed (totally taking pity on the guy he told himself, not because Tim’s unnatural stillness and tightly controlled anxious energy was affecting him), “I’ll leave.”
And for good measure Kon floated up a few inches and flew across the room to where Kara stood snickering into a glass of punch.
Re: Fill-- My kind is not your kind (3/?)ayziliaAugust 16 2011, 22:19:42 UTC
Your lovely comments always make me so happy! Thank you.
Yah, Kon has some serious mood swings going on at this reception. He's probably going to go a little insane before he sorts all his feelings out. And then Tim will change something up and Kon will be forced to go a little crazy all over again. Poor guy. But then again, he gets a Timmy for all his suffering.
Re: Fill-- My kind is not your kind (3/?)salmon_pinkAugust 17 2011, 11:58:38 UTC
I'm already at the point where I'm squeeing in delight for every update on this fic. XD
Loved Kon's moods here, the flow of his thoughts - it really felt like classic Kon, Hawaii Kon, willful and stubborn and smiley, like a Kon who hasn't been softened and matured through years of Tim's influence and various tragedies. As much as I love all flavours of Kon, that classic version of him is still my favourite. His no-fail (fail) smirk cracked me up, and I'm loving how Tim's already showing signs of wrapping him around his little finger. :D
Re: Fill-- My kind is not your kind (3/?)ayziliaAugust 19 2011, 19:51:01 UTC
Thank you so much! I'm so glad Kon read like Classic Early Kon. That's totally what I was going for. After all,this is a Kon who has spent his life mostly in Metropolis and hasn't had Tim or Ma Kent to mature him.
Re: Fill-- My kind is not your kind (3/?)ayziliaAugust 17 2011, 18:50:05 UTC
eek! I love how kon was seeing tim as all "oh what a beautiful,fragile, little human." and then Tim was suddenly like " bitch, please, you don't get to talk to me like that." your timmy sounds so pretty. (although when isn't he?) I can't wait to see what else happens in their relationship, because it's obvious that kon wants to like timmy and timmy seems scared and unhappy with the arrangement, not neccessarily with kon.
Re: Fill-- My kind is not your kind (3/?)ayziliaAugust 19 2011, 19:55:22 UTC
kon was seeing tim as all "oh what a beautiful,fragile, little human." and then Tim was suddenly like " bitch, please, you don't get to talk to me like that."
I love your nutshell version of this update! Hehe! perfect.
Ah, Kon does want to like Tim, he just needs to conquer his mistrust of humans and if Tim can manage to separate the relationship from the circumstance and really see Kon, he'll be head over heels too.
Fill-- My kind is not your kind (4/4)ayziliaAugust 24 2011, 03:57:08 UTC
If Tim bit down just a shade harder on the inside of his bottom lip, he’d break the skin, he knew. He could feel his nostrils flare slightly against the force of his strictly controlled breathing. His eyes tracked Kon’s progress (the most direct trajectory, flying along expecting people to clear out of his way) across the reception hall to his cousin over by the refreshments. He suddenly felt a warm weight on his shoulder. Dick’s hand. Competent and comforting.
Tim allowed himself to lean into the touch when Dick slid his hand across to grip the back of Tim’s neck. In need of some comfort knowingly or not, Tim half closed his eyes and released his lip from between his teeth when Dick began to rub his thumb in soothing circles.
Tim didn’t respond to the feel of Jason’s solid presence, always broadcasting his general annoyance with the world, coming up on his other side. Maybe a twitch of a smile. Maybe. Tim’d deny it unless confronted with security footage. Maybe even then. Just to frustrate his irritable big brother.
“Good job dickwad. Great idea. That looked like it went really well,” Jason griped over Tim’s head.
Dick sighed, “They have to talk sometime.”
“No, they really don’t,” Jason growled.
His brothers. His sister and the hellion (who Tim was vaguely tracking as they stalked each other around the room in a subtle game of tag). Tim thought about living day to day without their chatter and hugs and smiles and significant looks and teasing and yelling and pranks and love and he blanched.
“At some point-” Dick began in the most patient tone of voice in his repertoire.
Jason spoke right over him with no regard whatsoever, “Tim, I’m gonna outfit you with a Kryptonite chastity belt. Just give me a little bit of time to make sure it won’t give you some crazy cancer or something.” The picture that brought to mind-Tim snorted softly.
“If you do you’ll be in violation of Article One, Paragraph Two,” Tim informed him dryly.
“Shouldn’t there be some kind of fucking exception if it’s in defense of the fucking innocent?” Jason demanded, some real anger and worry crowding out the teasing tone in his gravelly voice.
Tim wished he wouldn’t worry. There was nothing to be done.
“We’re married Jason,” he reiterated in all seriousness. Tim closed his eyes. Neither Tim nor Jason, nor Dick for that matter, could ignore what all that institution entailed. Tim again made a conscious effort to relax the muscles in his face (he could feel his brow knitting up) and applied his considerable focus to breathing out both his anxiety and his nervousness.
Tim’s eyes flew open to Jason’s smirking face when he felt rough fingers pinch his cheek like a stereotypical granny.
“That doesn’t mean you’re not innocent, baby bird,” Jay grinned.
Tim appreciated Jason’s attempted application of teasing (although Jason’s eyes remained as serious as a gravestone) to aid Tim’s struggle against his emotions. Really he did. So he played along as expected, swatting at Jason’s hand on his face and initiating a brief, light scuffle.
Dick laughed (but not pure, too etched with sorrow) as Jason expertly maneuvered Tim into a loose headlock. Grinning minutely (but openly this time), Tim let Jason manhandle him back over to their big brother.
“Pure as freshly fallen snow,” Jason sing-songed.
“Married snow,” Tim maintained.
Dick leaned down a bit, bringing his face on level with Tim’s where Jason still held him in place.
A blanket of gravity smothered Tim’s smile and Jason’s rumble-like chuckles.
“Tim, in all seriousness, you know that doesn’t mean anything has to happen, right?” Dick tried to affirm.
Tim watched Dick, not quite comprehending. Ok, yah, nothing had to happen right away, he got that. But he and Kon were married and…it did eventually. It just…did.
Dick’s face crumpled and he snatched Tim away from Jason to crush him against his chest.
“Tim,” Dick whispered into his hair, “Don’t do anything unless you want to. Simple as that. Don’t logic your way around it.”
“Or I don’t care what fucking article I’ll be violating,” Tim heard Jason grumble from behind him.
Tim pressed his forehead against Dick’s chest and endeavored to memorize every nuance of his brothers’ company.
Re: Fill-- My kind is not your kind (3/?)ayziliaAugust 24 2011, 03:59:27 UTC
Dick continued to murmur into his hair, “For what it’s worth Tim, I think you two have a lot of potential. Don’t let the crummy circumstances muck up the chemistry.”
Jason groaned dramatically and face palmed. Tim heard the distinct slap. “I’ll try Dick, for you,” Tim promised.
“For yourself Timmy,” Dick corrected.
“Oh God! This is not a chick flick!” Jason exclaimed.
Dick pulled away slightly to blink total innocence at Jason over Tim’s head and reply, “But, chick flicks have happy endings Jason. Don’t you want a happy ending for our little brother?"
Tim’s choked laughter sounded a bit like a soft cough, but neither of his brothers called him on it. Dick grinned triumphantly and turned Tim around in his arms to face Jason and the room again. Jason tried to look menacing with his shoulders set and the corners of his lips sneaking upwards.
He stabbed a finger in Dick’s direction, “I hate you.”
Dick’s sputtering laughter joined Tim’s near silent mirth and Jason chortles, but too soon Bruce’s deep commanding voice (“Dick! Jason!”) cut across and halted all three. When Tim turned his head (the only part of his upper body Dick’s grip would allow him to move), Bruce looked grim. Not his usual, but grim for Bruce. His eyes hard and his jaw set. Power clear and present in the line of his shoulders. He couldn’t seem to look at Tim directly, all his fierce focus fixed on his older sons.
“We’re needed in Gotham,” he ordered, “Let’s move.”
Held against his brother as he was, Tim could feel Dick tense violently.
“Bruce!” Dick protested, but Bruce had already turned away and caught Damian by the back of his collar. Neither Dick nor Jason moved. Tim himself felt frozen, the core of his being ripped out and gone.
Damian glanced back (his expression for once not hostile towards Tim) as Bruce tugged him towards the door. Then he jerked away from the grip, straightened his suit jacket and followed his father across the room in a more dignified manner. Cass ignored the hand Bruce jerked in her direction and made her way towards Tim instead. Tim blinked and she stood in front of him, her eyes solemn and sad. She lifted a hand to his cheek and leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead.
Tim didn’t know what to say. Nothing in his head seemed adequate. Cass herself said nothing.
When she stepped back, Jason moved forward and took her place.
“Take care of yourself, baby bird.” Jason threatened, “Or I will beat your ass into next week. We clear?”
Tim could only nod.
“Good,” Jay said and then ruffled Tim’s hair (Tim scowled because the rules of their relationship required such) and then he and Cass walked away.
Dick’s turn to leave.
Tim bit his lip against the swell of fear and abandonment and heartbreak that seemed to literally crawl up his spine and crash its way into his chest, drowning his lungs. He closed his eyes, brought his hands up to Dick’s forearms and just… held on.
“I don’t think I can let go little brother,” Dick whispered. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“Dick!” Bruce bellowed. The soft socialite chatter around the room fell hushed. Tim shuddered subtly against the feel dozens of eyes greedily taking in the drama.
“If you need me, call me up and I’ll be there for you,” Dick promised. Then he pressed one last kiss into Tim’s dark hair, tore his arms away, and left.
Tim looked up. His eyes skittered over the blank wash of faces and found Bruce by the door, waiting for Dick to reach him. Tim found Bruce’s eyes. Bruce looked away quickly.
And Tim stood alone, bereft, arms coming to rest still by his sides, to watch his family leave him behind.
Fill-- My kind is not your kind (4/4)ayziliaAugust 24 2011, 04:00:53 UTC
Stunned was hardly a powerful enough word to encompass the feeling flowing through Kon’s veins, growing more intense with each pump of his heart, but Kon couldn’t call upon his more advanced vocabulary with the fog of emotion sweeping through his mind as he watched Tim’s shoulders slump ever so slightly in the wake of his family’s departure. Slump and, just barely, start to shake.
Next to him Kara muttered, “You want an opening? There ya go.”
Kon turned to stare at her, wide-eyed. He might want Tim charmed (and therefore safely declawed, or untaloned, or whatever it was you did to dangerous birds, hooded maybe?), but he didn’t want to like take advantage of a shitty situation like this.
“Go!” Kara ordered, with a jerk of her head and quirk of her eyebrows, “Go comfort him.”
Right. Comfort. He could be comforting without feeling like a dirtbag. Could offer comfort without having sneaky motives. Theoretically. But as Kon studied the obvious gut-wrenching turmoil Tim Drake was trying to hold at bay-his eyes downcast, his body trembling, his expression pinched and hurting, his hands fisted and his chest heaving-Kon knew he honestly did want to help. So the guy was a bit of a tight-laced jerk, but… well, Kon didn’t want to see him hurt. He’d examine why later, now to just figure out how to do this comfort thing without getting his head bitten off in the process.
Kon approached cautiously.
As he came closer, the shudders wrecking Tim’s tense body became more pronounced and obvious. Tim glared at the ground intensely and didn’t acknowledge Kon’s soft landing before him.
Kon cleared his throat awkwardly. Tim just turned his head a bit more away. Nervous, Kon nodded to himself, put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest.
“Uh, hey man.” He started. No response.
“Um…” Kon continued, “Ah, Look I couldn’t help but notice… your family. Sucks, man. I-ah-well… Are you ok?”
That got a response. Tim raised his head, his beautiful blue eyes filled with unshed tears, and glared unholy torment at Kon. The trembling increased. Kon could hear Tim’s breathing hitch and his heart fall all over itself trying to maintain the jackrabbit pace it’d set.
Kon deflated and brought his hands out in front of him. He back pedaled swiftly, “Ah, no you don’t have to answer that. That was a really stupid question, I mean-ah…”
Oh God, he was rambling like an idiot, but he didn’t know what to say, but he really wanted Tim to stop looking so wounded and start snarking again and if he could just put his hands on Tim’s shoulders to settle the shaking that was really starting to look painful and oh, he was so screwed.
Suddenly Tim softened. He relaxed his hands and straightened from his hunched over position. When he raised his now open face to Kon-well, Kon stopped breathing. Without the glare in those eyes, Tim looked so… so vulnerable.
And yah, Kon knew he was so screwed. Not in the fun way. Well maybe, hopefully, in the fun way, but also (really) he wanted Tim to look at him-hopeful, open, needy-like that again and again.
“Can-” Tim’s voice sounded wet. He stopped and cleared his throat (brought a hand up to his mouth when he did so and Kon couldn’t help but find the polite gesture adorable where usually he’d have rolled his eyes)before continuing, “Can we just get out of here?”
Kon nodded and smiled cheerfully (comfortingly?) and Tim gave him the smallest possible smile in return before looking back down at the cherry wood floors, still shy, still trying not to cry.
Kon still wanted to get his hands on him. He wanted to show the dude how a Super hug compared to a stupid Bat hug. Wanted Tim pushing at Kon’s limits and making him lose his temper and looking at him with trust and making him feel like the World’s Greatest Hero (genuine, not cloned) and generally just as wrapped around Kon’s finger and he was fast becoming wrapped around Tim’s.
And yah, unless he could get this feeling under wraps, he was totally and completely screwed.
Re: Fill-- My kind is not your kind (4/4)animegoilAugust 24 2011, 04:05:24 UTC
Oh that was awesome! I really loved all the details and the family-feel, and yeah, that's a really sucky sitaution for Tim, so his reactions fit them well ♥ loved it, and really wish you'd continue ;)
The last time Kon had been surrounded by this many humans they’d all been wearing white lab coats (except for Luthor in his purple suit jacket) and poking at him and jotting down notes on electronic tablets. And while dress jackets and evening gowns had replaced the lab wear, Kon felt just as observed and uncomfortable now as he had then. Only two things kept him at this stupid “Successful Signing” reception: Clark’s steady presence, fortifying even from across the room where the guy was still doling out sound bites for a gaggle of human (and one or two Kryptonian) reporters, and Tim. Not that Tim’s presence helped ease the nervous energy buzzing just under his skin. Just the opposite. But to his great annoyance, Kon couldn’t take his eyes away.
His new husband seemed to push every one of the buttons Kon didn’t even know he had, just by standing there (or not looking at him from across the table). Kon swept his eyes over Tim’s lean fit form again and had to bite down on the inside of his lip against the surge of want that spiked through him. Totally unaffected, Tim continued conversing softly with his two older brothers. Kon shoved his hands in the stupid dress pants Kara had blackmailed him into. Did Tim not feel it? This stupid spark driving Kon stupidly, annoyingly, freaking crazy? Tim had only looked at him once the whole damn stupid day (wide blue eyes in a pale fine-boned face) and his apparent shyness-which at first had seemed endearing and lit up every protector instinct in Kon’s copy cat DNA and generally made him act stupidly puppy-eager-was starting to make Kon suspicious. And pissed off.
Did he not live up to the little Gotham prince’s standards or something? Too good for a clone? Kon felt his nostrils flare a little and glared at Tim’s half-turned back. Well, too bad. They’d both signed the damn treaty and the additional marriage contract and the freaking marriage license-Tim was his now. Kon nodded to himself. He always got who he set his sights after, he would this time too, and when Tim was all starry-eyed and charmed by his awesomeness… well then Kon wouldn’t have to worry about the sneaky little human being up to anything nefarious. And Kon totally wouldn’t let himself get blinded by Tim’s hotness (really, being human and all Kon hadn’t been expecting much but Tim was smoking in the most unassuming of ways) and if he tried anything that would hurt him or Clark or Kara he’d sic Krypto on the stupid bat. Yes, good plan. Kon nodded to himself and watched how Tim’s soft black hair flopped into his face when he shook his head minutely at a beseeching Dick.
As Kon watched the middle brother, Jason, scowled and punched Dick in the arm. Tim brought his hands up in a placating gesture.
Really the little dude was adorable. Kon smirked.
No, Kon frowned. He had to stay alert for sneaky behavior. Not get distracted by floppy hair… or beautifully dexterous fragile pale hands…
Oh shit, Tim was making his way across the room, painfully conscientious not to touch anyone even the slightest bit. Blue eyes flicked up from the floor to pin his and Kon felt just as winded this time as the last. Tim had his lips all pressed together in this thin tense line and what looked like a semi-permanent furrow of concentration or worry between his brows. Kon had to work to breathe deeply. He really wanted to run his fingers over those cheekbones, to smooth out that worry line, to trace that jaw line and tilt that perfect face up for a kiss.
Kon liked to touch. Clark theorized it had to do with being made in a test tube or his first power being tactile or (hey novel concept) both. Kon theorized he liked to touch because it just felt really freaking good. Especially when the touching involved a really hot chick. Or, heh, a freaking seductive human guy now standing just a scant centimeter outside of arm’s length.
Reply
“You were staring,” Tim spoke for the first time, his voice clear and somehow sharp despite how quietly he pitched his words. “Dick said I had to stop being anti-social and come talk to you.”
Kon decided he liked Dick. And he really liked having Tim’s eyes on him.
Tim crossed his arms over his chest. Hugging himself subtly. The thought distressed Kon (dammit he was getting all puppy stupid again) and wouldn’t freaking go away now that it’d popped into existence.
Tim frowned, “You know there are ways of watching people without being so obvious about it.”
Oh really? That so?
Kon smirked (his no-fail, go-to flirtation tool of epicness, just ask the Kryptonian ladies of Metropolis), “Yah? Heh, that mean you were watching me back, but with like ninja stealth skills?”
Tim’s hands flexed for a moment before his eyes narrowed.
“No,” he spit venom-sharp, “I was enjoying my time with my brothers. I don’t know when I’ll get to see them again.”
“Hey. Hey!” Kon protested, taken aback. He wiped his no-fail (fail) smirk off his face lickety-split. “That’s not my fault! You can thank Papa Bat’s bigoted butt for that particular aspect of our situation.”
“Bruce is just trying to protect Gotham,” Tim returned.
“From us?!” Kon realized his hands were out of his pockets and fisted. He hated bats. He knew he hated bats. With their stupid human city and their stupid prejudiced paranoia.
Tim raised an eyebrow. How the fuck did he look so fucking calm (and gorgeous) when Kon could feel himself shaking with too much rage. His stupid grace and poise made Kon feel like an over-reacting oaf. Not fair. Not cool. Kon could feeling his anger ratcheting up with every beat Tim let placidly pass.
“Your kind does seem to leave a great deal of destruction in your wake,” Tim stated in the ripened moment.
“You-”
Tim cut his protest short, “On average, a Super causes 6.31 thousand dollars worth of damage to public property per arrest. Granted that’s an average. But your last battle with, Mammoth was it?, cost the city of Memphis 867,933 dollars when the two of you managed to demolish half a courthouse.”
“Go back to your brothers.” Before I slip up and punch you and mess up your pretty face.
Tim’s face, his voice, went frosty, “You don’t get to give me orders.”
Kon ground his teeth and reminded himself of the press. With cameras. And stupid electronic tablets to jot down notes. “We’ll see, little buddy.”
Tim didn’t move a muscle. He looked hard and icy and totally unmovable. But Kon could hear the racing heart and smell the apprehension.
Kon felt his anger ebb. He sighed, an angry huff of air, “Go. You want to anyway.”
Tim breathed though his nose and glared with his eyes. If humans had laser vision (and Kon weren’t like invulnerable) Kon would totally be a disturbingly small pile of ash.
“Oh really, stop being obstinate!” Kon bit out.
Tim just continued to hold himself statue tense. He raised a single eyebrow at Kon’s small aborted movements.
“Fine!” Kon hissed (totally taking pity on the guy he told himself, not because Tim’s unnatural stillness and tightly controlled anxious energy was affecting him), “I’ll leave.”
And for good measure Kon floated up a few inches and flew across the room to where Kara stood snickering into a glass of punch.
Now off to read all the backlogged fic! Squee!
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
Yah, Kon has some serious mood swings going on at this reception. He's probably going to go a little insane before he sorts all his feelings out. And then Tim will change something up and Kon will be forced to go a little crazy all over again. Poor guy. But then again, he gets a Timmy for all his suffering.
Reply
Loved Kon's moods here, the flow of his thoughts - it really felt like classic Kon, Hawaii Kon, willful and stubborn and smiley, like a Kon who hasn't been softened and matured through years of Tim's influence and various tragedies. As much as I love all flavours of Kon, that classic version of him is still my favourite. His no-fail (fail) smirk cracked me up, and I'm loving how Tim's already showing signs of wrapping him around his little finger. :D
Reply
I'm so glad Kon read like Classic Early Kon. That's totally what I was going for. After all,this is a Kon who has spent his life mostly in Metropolis and hasn't had Tim or Ma Kent to mature him.
Reply
your timmy sounds so pretty. (although when isn't he?)
I can't wait to see what else happens in their relationship, because it's obvious that kon wants to like timmy and timmy seems scared and unhappy with the arrangement, not neccessarily with kon.
Reply
kon was seeing tim as all "oh what a beautiful,fragile, little human." and then Tim was suddenly like " bitch, please, you don't get to talk to me like that."
I love your nutshell version of this update! Hehe! perfect.
Ah, Kon does want to like Tim, he just needs to conquer his mistrust of humans and if Tim can manage to separate the relationship from the circumstance and really see Kon, he'll be head over heels too.
Thank you for such an encouraging comment.:)
Reply
Tim allowed himself to lean into the touch when Dick slid his hand across to grip the back of Tim’s neck. In need of some comfort knowingly or not, Tim half closed his eyes and released his lip from between his teeth when Dick began to rub his thumb in soothing circles.
Tim didn’t respond to the feel of Jason’s solid presence, always broadcasting his general annoyance with the world, coming up on his other side. Maybe a twitch of a smile. Maybe. Tim’d deny it unless confronted with security footage. Maybe even then. Just to frustrate his irritable big brother.
“Good job dickwad. Great idea. That looked like it went really well,” Jason griped over Tim’s head.
Dick sighed, “They have to talk sometime.”
“No, they really don’t,” Jason growled.
His brothers. His sister and the hellion (who Tim was vaguely tracking as they stalked each other around the room in a subtle game of tag). Tim thought about living day to day without their chatter and hugs and smiles and significant looks and teasing and yelling and pranks and love and he blanched.
“At some point-” Dick began in the most patient tone of voice in his repertoire.
Jason spoke right over him with no regard whatsoever, “Tim, I’m gonna outfit you with a Kryptonite chastity belt. Just give me a little bit of time to make sure it won’t give you some crazy cancer or something.”
The picture that brought to mind-Tim snorted softly.
“If you do you’ll be in violation of Article One, Paragraph Two,” Tim informed him dryly.
“Shouldn’t there be some kind of fucking exception if it’s in defense of the fucking innocent?” Jason demanded, some real anger and worry crowding out the teasing tone in his gravelly voice.
Tim wished he wouldn’t worry. There was nothing to be done.
“We’re married Jason,” he reiterated in all seriousness. Tim closed his eyes. Neither Tim nor Jason, nor Dick for that matter, could ignore what all that institution entailed. Tim again made a conscious effort to relax the muscles in his face (he could feel his brow knitting up) and applied his considerable focus to breathing out both his anxiety and his nervousness.
Tim’s eyes flew open to Jason’s smirking face when he felt rough fingers pinch his cheek like a stereotypical granny.
“That doesn’t mean you’re not innocent, baby bird,” Jay grinned.
Tim appreciated Jason’s attempted application of teasing (although Jason’s eyes remained as serious as a gravestone) to aid Tim’s struggle against his emotions. Really he did. So he played along as expected, swatting at Jason’s hand on his face and initiating a brief, light scuffle.
Dick laughed (but not pure, too etched with sorrow) as Jason expertly maneuvered Tim into a loose headlock. Grinning minutely (but openly this time), Tim let Jason manhandle him back over to their big brother.
“Pure as freshly fallen snow,” Jason sing-songed.
“Married snow,” Tim maintained.
Dick leaned down a bit, bringing his face on level with Tim’s where Jason still held him in place.
A blanket of gravity smothered Tim’s smile and Jason’s rumble-like chuckles.
“Tim, in all seriousness, you know that doesn’t mean anything has to happen, right?” Dick tried to affirm.
Tim watched Dick, not quite comprehending. Ok, yah, nothing had to happen right away, he got that. But he and Kon were married and…it did eventually. It just…did.
Dick’s face crumpled and he snatched Tim away from Jason to crush him against his chest.
“Tim,” Dick whispered into his hair, “Don’t do anything unless you want to. Simple as that. Don’t logic your way around it.”
“Or I don’t care what fucking article I’ll be violating,” Tim heard Jason grumble from behind him.
Tim pressed his forehead against Dick’s chest and endeavored to memorize every nuance of his brothers’ company.
Reply
Dick continued to murmur into his hair, “For what it’s worth Tim, I think you two have a lot of potential. Don’t let the crummy circumstances muck up the chemistry.”
Jason groaned dramatically and face palmed. Tim heard the distinct slap.
“I’ll try Dick, for you,” Tim promised.
“For yourself Timmy,” Dick corrected.
“Oh God! This is not a chick flick!” Jason exclaimed.
Dick pulled away slightly to blink total innocence at Jason over Tim’s head and reply, “But, chick flicks have happy endings Jason. Don’t you want a happy ending for our little brother?"
Tim’s choked laughter sounded a bit like a soft cough, but neither of his brothers called him on it. Dick grinned triumphantly and turned Tim around in his arms to face Jason and the room again. Jason tried to look menacing with his shoulders set and the corners of his lips sneaking upwards.
He stabbed a finger in Dick’s direction, “I hate you.”
Dick’s sputtering laughter joined Tim’s near silent mirth and Jason chortles, but too soon Bruce’s deep commanding voice (“Dick! Jason!”) cut across and halted all three. When Tim turned his head (the only part of his upper body Dick’s grip would allow him to move), Bruce looked grim. Not his usual, but grim for Bruce. His eyes hard and his jaw set. Power clear and present in the line of his shoulders. He couldn’t seem to look at Tim directly, all his fierce focus fixed on his older sons.
“We’re needed in Gotham,” he ordered, “Let’s move.”
Held against his brother as he was, Tim could feel Dick tense violently.
“Bruce!” Dick protested, but Bruce had already turned away and caught Damian by the back of his collar. Neither Dick nor Jason moved. Tim himself felt frozen, the core of his being ripped out and gone.
Damian glanced back (his expression for once not hostile towards Tim) as Bruce tugged him towards the door. Then he jerked away from the grip, straightened his suit jacket and followed his father across the room in a more dignified manner. Cass ignored the hand Bruce jerked in her direction and made her way towards Tim instead. Tim blinked and she stood in front of him, her eyes solemn and sad. She lifted a hand to his cheek and leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead.
Tim didn’t know what to say. Nothing in his head seemed adequate. Cass herself said nothing.
When she stepped back, Jason moved forward and took her place.
“Take care of yourself, baby bird.” Jason threatened, “Or I will beat your ass into next week. We clear?”
Tim could only nod.
“Good,” Jay said and then ruffled Tim’s hair (Tim scowled because the rules of their relationship required such) and then he and Cass walked away.
Dick’s turn to leave.
Tim bit his lip against the swell of fear and abandonment and heartbreak that seemed to literally crawl up his spine and crash its way into his chest, drowning his lungs. He closed his eyes, brought his hands up to Dick’s forearms and just… held on.
“I don’t think I can let go little brother,” Dick whispered. “I don’t want to leave you.”
“Dick!” Bruce bellowed. The soft socialite chatter around the room fell hushed. Tim shuddered subtly against the feel dozens of eyes greedily taking in the drama.
“If you need me, call me up and I’ll be there for you,” Dick promised. Then he pressed one last kiss into Tim’s dark hair, tore his arms away, and left.
Tim looked up. His eyes skittered over the blank wash of faces and found Bruce by the door, waiting for Dick to reach him. Tim found Bruce’s eyes. Bruce looked away quickly.
And Tim stood alone, bereft, arms coming to rest still by his sides, to watch his family leave him behind.
Reply
Next to him Kara muttered, “You want an opening? There ya go.”
Kon turned to stare at her, wide-eyed. He might want Tim charmed (and therefore safely declawed, or untaloned, or whatever it was you did to dangerous birds, hooded maybe?), but he didn’t want to like take advantage of a shitty situation like this.
“Go!” Kara ordered, with a jerk of her head and quirk of her eyebrows, “Go comfort him.”
Right. Comfort. He could be comforting without feeling like a dirtbag. Could offer comfort without having sneaky motives. Theoretically. But as Kon studied the obvious gut-wrenching turmoil Tim Drake was trying to hold at bay-his eyes downcast, his body trembling, his expression pinched and hurting, his hands fisted and his chest heaving-Kon knew he honestly did want to help. So the guy was a bit of a tight-laced jerk, but… well, Kon didn’t want to see him hurt. He’d examine why later, now to just figure out how to do this comfort thing without getting his head bitten off in the process.
Kon approached cautiously.
As he came closer, the shudders wrecking Tim’s tense body became more pronounced and obvious. Tim glared at the ground intensely and didn’t acknowledge Kon’s soft landing before him.
Kon cleared his throat awkwardly. Tim just turned his head a bit more away. Nervous, Kon nodded to himself, put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest.
“Uh, hey man.” He started. No response.
“Um…” Kon continued, “Ah, Look I couldn’t help but notice… your family. Sucks, man. I-ah-well… Are you ok?”
That got a response. Tim raised his head, his beautiful blue eyes filled with unshed tears, and glared unholy torment at Kon. The trembling increased. Kon could hear Tim’s breathing hitch and his heart fall all over itself trying to maintain the jackrabbit pace it’d set.
Kon deflated and brought his hands out in front of him. He back pedaled swiftly, “Ah, no you don’t have to answer that. That was a really stupid question, I mean-ah…”
Oh God, he was rambling like an idiot, but he didn’t know what to say, but he really wanted Tim to stop looking so wounded and start snarking again and if he could just put his hands on Tim’s shoulders to settle the shaking that was really starting to look painful and oh, he was so screwed.
Suddenly Tim softened. He relaxed his hands and straightened from his hunched over position. When he raised his now open face to Kon-well, Kon stopped breathing. Without the glare in those eyes, Tim looked so… so vulnerable.
And yah, Kon knew he was so screwed. Not in the fun way. Well maybe, hopefully, in the fun way, but also (really) he wanted Tim to look at him-hopeful, open, needy-like that again and again.
“Can-” Tim’s voice sounded wet. He stopped and cleared his throat (brought a hand up to his mouth when he did so and Kon couldn’t help but find the polite gesture adorable where usually he’d have rolled his eyes)before continuing, “Can we just get out of here?”
Kon nodded and smiled cheerfully (comfortingly?) and Tim gave him the smallest possible smile in return before looking back down at the cherry wood floors, still shy, still trying not to cry.
Kon still wanted to get his hands on him. He wanted to show the dude how a Super hug compared to a stupid Bat hug. Wanted Tim pushing at Kon’s limits and making him lose his temper and looking at him with trust and making him feel like the World’s Greatest Hero (genuine, not cloned) and generally just as wrapped around Kon’s finger and he was fast becoming wrapped around Tim’s.
And yah, unless he could get this feeling under wraps, he was totally and completely screwed.
END! For now... Hope y'all enjoyed!
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
Leave a comment