Fic: untitled Tim/Kon
Title: untitled
Characters: Tim Drake, Kon-El
Rating: PG
Warnings: Prostitution, though nothing happens. It's just there.
Word Count: 3, 400
Author's Notes: Happy birthday iesika! This is.. you know.. really late. But I had writers block/was distracted by RP for a long time. Inspired by a conversation with schizoauthoress and I owe her for helping me develop the idea. Also fuck titles, I just want to post this. I'll think of something later.
It’s been weeks since he’s seen Tim, and Tim hasn’t been answering his calls either. Kon’s not really surprised, it’s something that Tim does sometimes, just disappears off the face of the Earth.
Or. Well. He’d disappear off the face of the Earth if Kon didn’t have the ability to fly to Gotham and track him down with super hearing. He follows Tim’s heart beat and the sound of his voice into the old, dirty parts of Gotham, where all the mobsters and drug dealers hang out. Kon figures Tim’s on patrol, so when his hearing leads him to a little alley, Kon is surprised to find a distinct lack of Tim there.
That is until he notices the two people standing in the alley. There’s a guy and a girl, and it’s... not very hard to guess what their occupation is. Kon nearly swallows his tongue when he realizes the guy is Tim, just a very well disguised Tim. It takes his brain a little while to kick back into gear and tell him that “no, Tim isn’t secretly a hooker” and that this is probably Robin work.
Kon alights on a nearby roof to wait, because he’s not going to just fly down there and blow Tim’s cover, but he’s also not just gonna leave either, mostly because it’s Gotham, and even though Kon knows Tim can protect himself, he’s still reluctant to leave him alone. He expands his hearing a bit, listening to see if Tim’s got any back up around, but he can’t hear anything out of the ordinary and that just unsettles him, the thought that Tim’s out here alone.
While he waits, Kon takes the time to actually look at Tim. He’s wearing obscenely tight jeans, black and ripped horizontally across the thighs. Kon’s kind of surprised he’s not wearing like, tiny shorts or something, but then he remembers that it’s Gotham and winter and it suddenly makes a lot more sense. Tim’s wearing a red singlet with mesh sides, and Kon makes a mental note to never tease Tim about the Mr Sarcastic costume ever again because he’s pretty sure that’s the same top. His hairs so blond it’s almost white, and Kon concentrates, focusing around Tim’s hairline and he can just see the line of the wig. Tim’s skin is darker and a little orange tinted. It’s a good fake tan, but still fake.
A car pulls up, and the woman that Tim’s standing with walks over to it and after a quick discussion with whoever’s inside, she gets in. Kon takes the opportunity to fly down into the alley, landing as far away from the street as possible.
“Conner.” Tim’s voice is a low growl as he stalks further into the alley. And Kon really shouldn’t be surprised that Tim knew he was there, but he kind of is.
“Dude--” Kon starts talking, but Tim holds up a hand to silence him.
“What are you doing here?” Tim’s angry, but there’s an edge of something underneath it, and after a second Kon recognizes it as panic.
“Uh... I wanted to hang out?”
“I’m busy.”
“I kinda noticed. This is a ‘mission’ thing, right?”
Tim’s heart rate speeds up and his tone is harsh, “Of course it is. You think I do this for fun?”
“This is Gotham, dude. And I worry about you. Let me stick around for back up?”
“You can’t stay. You’ll blow my cover!” Tim’s voice slips into ‘Robin’ mode and Kon resists the urge to wrinkle his nose at it.
Kon still levels him a flat look though, “I’m not stupid enough to think I could like.. stick around here. I’ll keep an eye on you from a couple of buildings over, you won’t even know I’m here.”
“You can’t be here. Leave, Superboy.” The use of the codename is enough of a dismissal, but Kon’s really not giving up that easy.
“I can help if you let me. Or I’ll just watch out for you and make sure nothing goes wrong but I won’t even get involved if I don’t need to.” Kon figures it’s a good enough compromise.
Tim shifts, crossing his arms over his chest like he’s trying to cover up, “I don’t want you here.”
Something in Tim’s tone makes Kon’s stomach drop, “Shit, you aren’t gonna have to like... actually do anything, are you?”
“No!” Tim hisses, “I just don’t want you to see, to hear this. I can handle myself, go away.
Tim actually steps forward and shoves at Kon, his hands on his shoulder’s trying to push him away. Kon doesn’t budge.
“You’re not Batman, you don’t have to do this alone.”
“Conner. Kon. Please just go.” Tim’s brows are drawn together and his voice is tight.
“I--” Kon shuts up and cocks his head, “There’s a car coming. I’ve got your back, don’t worry.”
Tim makes a low, distressed sound and Conner reaches out to squeeze his shoulder briefly before flying up and out of the alley.
Tim walks up to the car.
~
Kon hovers anxiously just below the window of the room Tim disappeared into. There are heavy curtains pulled, but Kon can just turn around and x-ray through the wall. Tim’s standing just infront of the closed door, leaning back against it with one leg bent so his foot is flat against the door. It looks casual, but Conner can hear how fast Tim’s heart is beating and he’s fiddling absently with his watch, which isn’t a watch at all, because there are little buttons on it that don’t belong on a watch at all.
Something’s wrong though, it’s obvious in the way Tim stills all over when the man approaches and jabs harder at one of the buttons before making a tiny, distressed sound that Kon’s pretty sure only he can hear. Tim’s breath leaves him in a sharp gasp as the man pins him against the wall, and his heart rate spikes. Conner turns his head away, because he really just wants Dick and the brat to turn up and beat this guy unconscious.
“B’s not responding,” it’s not even a whisper, just a breath of air that somehow makes words as Kon picks them up, they’re followed by a moan that’s obviously faked to Kon’s ears, but probably sounds real to the guy in the room.
He stretches out his hearing, listening for Dick’s voice or the words ‘Batman’ and ‘Robin’, he picks them up on the other side of town, and he can hear gunfire and what sounds like something burning. They’re not going to turn up anytime soon.
“Kon,” it’s another whisper, but Kon can hear it for the command it is and floats up a little to knock on the window, looking through the curtain with x-ray vision again as he does.
The john’s got one hand on Tim’s waist, the shirt rucked up, the other hands holding a knife and the tip is pressed against Tim’s collarbone. Tim’s eyes flick to the window as soon as Kon knocks but he doesn’t move aside from that. The john, on the other hand, jerks back from Tim briefly before moving back close, digging the knife in until blood wells up on Tim’s skin.
“What was that?” the john asks Tim.
Tim squirms in a way that a normal person would, and his voice is high and breathless with panic, “I don’t know, I don’t know. Please don’t kill me...”
Kon knows it’s faked, because he knows Tim could clean the floor with this guy if it wouldn’t make the whole operation pointless. The guy would walk free on bail if the only word against him was Tim’s.
Superboy, on the other hand, could burst in the window and find the john about to murder some kid and hand the guy over to the police without question and the guy would stay locked up long enough for Bats to get information to the GCPD.
“If this is some sort of trick...” the john growls.
Kon cuts him off by bursting through the window at super speed and grabbing onto the guy’s collar; pulling him off Tim and throwing him back against the dresser. Kon meets Tim’s eyes for a second, and although outwardly Tim shrinks away from him, there’s a tiny smile on his lips and he gives Conner the briefest of nods before looking over his shoulder.
“Shitshitshit. He’s got a gun oh my god don’t let him kill me!” Tim’s still affecting that high, scared voice and he scrambles away from Conner to crouch down in a corner.
The gun fires before Kon’s even bothered to turn around, but he does so quickly and makes a show of moving fast enough to catch the bullet. He tosses it aside, and advances on the john, who empties the clip, the bullets crumpling uselessly against Kon’s chest. Kon grabs the wrist that’s holding the gun, and flies up, dangling the guy in the air.
“Let me go you fucker,” the man yells at him, but Kon just shakes him a little until he shuts up.
“He keeps the clothes, they’re somewhere in here,” it’s another whisper from Tim and Kon makes a show of turning on his x-ray vision and looking around the room.
“Huh,” Kon makes a little surprised sound when he notices the safe hidden behind a chest of drawers, “What’s in the safe?”
“Fuck you!” is the only response he gets.
Kon shrugs and flies over to it, pulling the john with him and nudging the drawers to the side, he presses his fingers to the safe and pops the lock. The man starts struggling in his grip as the door swings open, but Kon is distracted by the overwhelming smell of dried blood. He stops breathing and tries to get the nauseous feeling under control as he pulls out six garment bags, a quick look inside revealing the blood soaked clothes within. Kon shudders involuntarily, imagining the clothes Tim is wearing looking like this and he dangles the guy up higher, tightening his grip until he hears a bone snap and the man screams. Tim makes a surprised sound.
“Focus, SB, just get him to the GCPD. Take the bags. I’ll meet you at the Nest on Grace Avenue,” Tim says, still in that whisper that only Kon can hear, though it’s a little difficult to under the constant whimpering coming from the john.
Kon drops the guy on the ground and walks over to Tim. He offers him a hand, which Tim accepts and lets himself be pulled up. He wraps his arms around himself though, and keeps pressed back against the wall.
“Are you okay?” Kon asks, trying to sound like a concerned superhero and not a worried best friend.
“M’okay,” Tim replies, his voice and demeanour shaky.
“You got a clinic or something you can go to, somewhere safe?”
Tim just nods.
“Alright, I’ll take care of this asshole. You head to a clinic, unless you wanna come testify?”
“No, no I can’t. They’ll arrest me for even being here...”
“If you’re sure?”
“I’m sure. And... thank you, Superboy.”
Kon huffs a laugh under his breath, “It’s what I do.”
He turns around and picks up the guy, along with the garment bags full of bloodied clothes, and heads to the police station.
~
By the time Conner’s finished the the GCPD and flown at super speed back to Tim’s “nest”, Tim is just pulling a small, unassuming black motorcycle into the underground parking area. Kon checks that there’s no cameras down there, and when he turns up only one at the entrance he buzzes by it so quick it won’t catch him, and lands down as Tim is climbing off the bike.
He’s still in the ripped jeans, but he’s covered the singlet with a long sleeved tee, and he’s got a coat over the top, long enough that it comes down to mid thigh and makes the jeans seem slightly less obscene.
“Oh. You’re here.” Tim doesn’t startle, but there’s still something unsettled about the way he looks at Kon.
“Yeah, you did tell me it was cool to be,” Kon shrugs and tilts his head a little, looking at Tim consideringly.
Tim doesn’t reply. just activates the security system on his bike and heads toward the a set of stairs, Kon follows and they make their way up to the ninth floor, pushing through a door into the lobby of the building and then Tim pulls out his keys and opens the door to his apartment, waiting for Conner to go through before closing it behind him.
Tim crouches down and starts unlacing his boots, so Kon toes off his shoes before walking properly into the apartment. He heads over to the kitchen bench and leans against it, watching Tim out of the corner of his eyes.
He frowns when he notices Tim’s hands are shaking as he slips out of the boots.
“Tim?” Kon keeps his voice soft.
“Yes, Conner?” Tim doesn’t even look at him.
“Your hands are shaking.”
Tim makes this sound, a little growl that’s somewhere between annoyed and upset, and he picks up the boots, gripping them tightly before heading to his bedroom and dropping them on the floor there.
Kon follows, “Dude, are you okay?”
“Of course I am,” Tim answers dismissively, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Uh..” Kon makes a face, “because you were just undercover as a prostitute and got picked up by a perverted murderer.”
Tim shrugs and turns away, peeling the shirt over his head before bending over to take off his socks. Kon can hear his heart beating though, way too fast, and Tim’s barely breathing, only taking shallow little gasps of air.
“Tim, dude, would you talk to me?” Kon presses the issue again, walking closer to Tim and reaching out to lay a hand on his arm.
Tim twists out of his reach, and he actually stumbles, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed; staring at his shaking hands.
“Hey--” Kon starts, gently, but Tim’s quiet voice cuts him off.
“I hate it. I know it’s for the mission, and it’s important and at least I didn’t have to dress like a girl...” Tim trails off for a moment, and clenches his hands into fists, not looking at Kon as he speaks. “But I hate it. I feel wrong all over, like my skin’s going to be dirty forever. I wish I could just stop, but then it’d leave people in danger and I can’t do that either.”
Tim goes silent, rubbing his left hand over the back of his right wrist, like he’s trying to scrub himself clean and his breathing is still shallow and quick. Kon sits down on the bed next to him, knocking his knee lightly against Tim’s.
“Oh, Tim.”
Tim pulls his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and he looks so tiny and scared that Kon can’t help but rest his hand between Tim’s shoulders in a comforting gesture.
“I hate how they look at me, how they touch me and I just want to scrub all my skin off but even that wouldn’t help. I’d still feel dirty, still feel their hands on me.” Tim takes a few shaky breaths and Kon starts rubbing little circles on his back, trying to keep him calm. It only works a little, and when Tim starts speaking again it’s almost bordering on panic. “I shouldn’t complain, it’s not like I even have to.. have to do anything aside from stand in the street and get picked up. So many people have it so much worse, they don’t have a choice. Those people that died...”
Tim stops talking with a small, distressed noise and Kon strokes his hand firmly over Tim’s back.
“You’re a fucking hero, you know that? I mean.. the stuff I do; punching monsters and evil aliens who want to take over the world, that’s different. I’m just saving the world, you’re saving people, not just keeping them alive but making their lives better. I don’t...” Kon makes a thoughtful noise and shrugs, “I think it’s all kinds of brilliant, what you do.”
Tim turns his head to look at Kon, with a soft, slightly incredulous incredulous expression.
“What?” Kon suddenly feels sheepish after admitting all that.
“Sometimes I forget that you actually have a brain,” Tim answers in a flat tone that Kon can only recognize as teasing because he knows Tim so well.
“It’s all part of a ruse, I’m tricking everyone into thinking I’m an idiot so they don’t expect too much of me.”
Tim laughs, it’s a only quiet chuckle, but Kon counts it as a victory and he squeezes Tim’s shoulder before moving his hand away.
“I need a shower.”
“You kinda do, you smell like cigarettes and fake tan.”
Tim scowls at him and rubs his cheek with his palm before standing up and heading to the ensuite bathroom, closing the door and Kon hears the rustle of clothes, and a weird, slight tearing sound as Tim works off the wig. Then the water’s running and the sound of Tim’s breathing is drowned out by the water.
Kon stands up and heads into the kitchen; he puts on a pot of coffee and pulls two mugs out of the cupboard. He bangs around Tim’s kitchen for a bit, because he’s pretty sure Tim probably hasn’t eaten tonight so he pulls out a frying pan, grabs cheese, ham and tomato from the fridge and bread from the pantry and starts making toasted sandwiches.
By the time Tim’s out of the shower, his skin flushed red from having the water too hot, and dressed in loose jeans and an old faded, Superboy shirt. Kon laughs when he sees him, and Tim smirks at him, picking absently at the faded ‘S’ shield.
“You’re cooking.” Tim comments as he pours them both a cup of coffee, adding a little bit of milk to his own and leaving Conner’s black.
“Just toasties, I’m not exactly a world class chef,” Kon replies as he grabs a plate out of the cupboard and sets two sandwiches on them, handing the plate to Tim; who hops up on the kitchen bench and peers at the sandwiches consideringly.
“Hn.”
“I promise they’re not poisoned,” Kon grins and turns off the stove.
Tim blows on the sandwich until it’s cool enough to eat and then takes a bite. He chews, thoughtfully and then swallows.
And starts choking. His hand at his throat for maximum effort.
Kon just raises an eyebrow, “You know I can see that there’s nothing stuck in your throat, right?”
Tim stops choking and gives Kon a tiny smile before taking another bite. He hums and follows it with a sip of coffee, “It’s not bad.”
“It’s pretty hard to screw up cheese toasties.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you managed somehow.”
“At least I didn’t try to cook them with heat vision, I probably would’ve melted your kitchen.”
Tim stares at him blankly, and then without comment he jumps down from the bench and takes his plate and mug and goes to sit on the couch. Kon pours himself his own mug of coffee and sits down next to Tim. They sit in silence for a while, Tim eating his food and Kon absently listening in to snatches of conversations that are going on in the building.
“Still want me to go?” Kon asks, now that Tim’s calmed down, he figures Tim’ll want him out of his hair.
Tim doesn’t answer for a little while, he just turns on the TV and flicks through the channels until he finds one of those terrible telenovas that Kon can’t stand the appeal of, even if Tim says he’s laughing at them.
Tim turns to him eventually, and he’s smiling, “You can stay.”
Characters: Tim Drake, Kon-El
Rating: PG
Warnings: Prostitution, though nothing happens. It's just there.
Word Count: 3, 400
Author's Notes: Happy birthday iesika! This is.. you know.. really late. But I had writers block/was distracted by RP for a long time. Inspired by a conversation with schizoauthoress and I owe her for helping me develop the idea. Also fuck titles, I just want to post this. I'll think of something later.
It’s been weeks since he’s seen Tim, and Tim hasn’t been answering his calls either. Kon’s not really surprised, it’s something that Tim does sometimes, just disappears off the face of the Earth.
Or. Well. He’d disappear off the face of the Earth if Kon didn’t have the ability to fly to Gotham and track him down with super hearing. He follows Tim’s heart beat and the sound of his voice into the old, dirty parts of Gotham, where all the mobsters and drug dealers hang out. Kon figures Tim’s on patrol, so when his hearing leads him to a little alley, Kon is surprised to find a distinct lack of Tim there.
That is until he notices the two people standing in the alley. There’s a guy and a girl, and it’s... not very hard to guess what their occupation is. Kon nearly swallows his tongue when he realizes the guy is Tim, just a very well disguised Tim. It takes his brain a little while to kick back into gear and tell him that “no, Tim isn’t secretly a hooker” and that this is probably Robin work.
Kon alights on a nearby roof to wait, because he’s not going to just fly down there and blow Tim’s cover, but he’s also not just gonna leave either, mostly because it’s Gotham, and even though Kon knows Tim can protect himself, he’s still reluctant to leave him alone. He expands his hearing a bit, listening to see if Tim’s got any back up around, but he can’t hear anything out of the ordinary and that just unsettles him, the thought that Tim’s out here alone.
While he waits, Kon takes the time to actually look at Tim. He’s wearing obscenely tight jeans, black and ripped horizontally across the thighs. Kon’s kind of surprised he’s not wearing like, tiny shorts or something, but then he remembers that it’s Gotham and winter and it suddenly makes a lot more sense. Tim’s wearing a red singlet with mesh sides, and Kon makes a mental note to never tease Tim about the Mr Sarcastic costume ever again because he’s pretty sure that’s the same top. His hairs so blond it’s almost white, and Kon concentrates, focusing around Tim’s hairline and he can just see the line of the wig. Tim’s skin is darker and a little orange tinted. It’s a good fake tan, but still fake.
A car pulls up, and the woman that Tim’s standing with walks over to it and after a quick discussion with whoever’s inside, she gets in. Kon takes the opportunity to fly down into the alley, landing as far away from the street as possible.
“Conner.” Tim’s voice is a low growl as he stalks further into the alley. And Kon really shouldn’t be surprised that Tim knew he was there, but he kind of is.
“Dude--” Kon starts talking, but Tim holds up a hand to silence him.
“What are you doing here?” Tim’s angry, but there’s an edge of something underneath it, and after a second Kon recognizes it as panic.
“Uh... I wanted to hang out?”
“I’m busy.”
“I kinda noticed. This is a ‘mission’ thing, right?”
Tim’s heart rate speeds up and his tone is harsh, “Of course it is. You think I do this for fun?”
“This is Gotham, dude. And I worry about you. Let me stick around for back up?”
“You can’t stay. You’ll blow my cover!” Tim’s voice slips into ‘Robin’ mode and Kon resists the urge to wrinkle his nose at it.
Kon still levels him a flat look though, “I’m not stupid enough to think I could like.. stick around here. I’ll keep an eye on you from a couple of buildings over, you won’t even know I’m here.”
“You can’t be here. Leave, Superboy.” The use of the codename is enough of a dismissal, but Kon’s really not giving up that easy.
“I can help if you let me. Or I’ll just watch out for you and make sure nothing goes wrong but I won’t even get involved if I don’t need to.” Kon figures it’s a good enough compromise.
Tim shifts, crossing his arms over his chest like he’s trying to cover up, “I don’t want you here.”
Something in Tim’s tone makes Kon’s stomach drop, “Shit, you aren’t gonna have to like... actually do anything, are you?”
“No!” Tim hisses, “I just don’t want you to see, to hear this. I can handle myself, go away.
Tim actually steps forward and shoves at Kon, his hands on his shoulder’s trying to push him away. Kon doesn’t budge.
“You’re not Batman, you don’t have to do this alone.”
“Conner. Kon. Please just go.” Tim’s brows are drawn together and his voice is tight.
“I--” Kon shuts up and cocks his head, “There’s a car coming. I’ve got your back, don’t worry.”
Tim makes a low, distressed sound and Conner reaches out to squeeze his shoulder briefly before flying up and out of the alley.
Tim walks up to the car.
~
Kon hovers anxiously just below the window of the room Tim disappeared into. There are heavy curtains pulled, but Kon can just turn around and x-ray through the wall. Tim’s standing just infront of the closed door, leaning back against it with one leg bent so his foot is flat against the door. It looks casual, but Conner can hear how fast Tim’s heart is beating and he’s fiddling absently with his watch, which isn’t a watch at all, because there are little buttons on it that don’t belong on a watch at all.
Something’s wrong though, it’s obvious in the way Tim stills all over when the man approaches and jabs harder at one of the buttons before making a tiny, distressed sound that Kon’s pretty sure only he can hear. Tim’s breath leaves him in a sharp gasp as the man pins him against the wall, and his heart rate spikes. Conner turns his head away, because he really just wants Dick and the brat to turn up and beat this guy unconscious.
“B’s not responding,” it’s not even a whisper, just a breath of air that somehow makes words as Kon picks them up, they’re followed by a moan that’s obviously faked to Kon’s ears, but probably sounds real to the guy in the room.
He stretches out his hearing, listening for Dick’s voice or the words ‘Batman’ and ‘Robin’, he picks them up on the other side of town, and he can hear gunfire and what sounds like something burning. They’re not going to turn up anytime soon.
“Kon,” it’s another whisper, but Kon can hear it for the command it is and floats up a little to knock on the window, looking through the curtain with x-ray vision again as he does.
The john’s got one hand on Tim’s waist, the shirt rucked up, the other hands holding a knife and the tip is pressed against Tim’s collarbone. Tim’s eyes flick to the window as soon as Kon knocks but he doesn’t move aside from that. The john, on the other hand, jerks back from Tim briefly before moving back close, digging the knife in until blood wells up on Tim’s skin.
“What was that?” the john asks Tim.
Tim squirms in a way that a normal person would, and his voice is high and breathless with panic, “I don’t know, I don’t know. Please don’t kill me...”
Kon knows it’s faked, because he knows Tim could clean the floor with this guy if it wouldn’t make the whole operation pointless. The guy would walk free on bail if the only word against him was Tim’s.
Superboy, on the other hand, could burst in the window and find the john about to murder some kid and hand the guy over to the police without question and the guy would stay locked up long enough for Bats to get information to the GCPD.
“If this is some sort of trick...” the john growls.
Kon cuts him off by bursting through the window at super speed and grabbing onto the guy’s collar; pulling him off Tim and throwing him back against the dresser. Kon meets Tim’s eyes for a second, and although outwardly Tim shrinks away from him, there’s a tiny smile on his lips and he gives Conner the briefest of nods before looking over his shoulder.
“Shitshitshit. He’s got a gun oh my god don’t let him kill me!” Tim’s still affecting that high, scared voice and he scrambles away from Conner to crouch down in a corner.
The gun fires before Kon’s even bothered to turn around, but he does so quickly and makes a show of moving fast enough to catch the bullet. He tosses it aside, and advances on the john, who empties the clip, the bullets crumpling uselessly against Kon’s chest. Kon grabs the wrist that’s holding the gun, and flies up, dangling the guy in the air.
“Let me go you fucker,” the man yells at him, but Kon just shakes him a little until he shuts up.
“He keeps the clothes, they’re somewhere in here,” it’s another whisper from Tim and Kon makes a show of turning on his x-ray vision and looking around the room.
“Huh,” Kon makes a little surprised sound when he notices the safe hidden behind a chest of drawers, “What’s in the safe?”
“Fuck you!” is the only response he gets.
Kon shrugs and flies over to it, pulling the john with him and nudging the drawers to the side, he presses his fingers to the safe and pops the lock. The man starts struggling in his grip as the door swings open, but Kon is distracted by the overwhelming smell of dried blood. He stops breathing and tries to get the nauseous feeling under control as he pulls out six garment bags, a quick look inside revealing the blood soaked clothes within. Kon shudders involuntarily, imagining the clothes Tim is wearing looking like this and he dangles the guy up higher, tightening his grip until he hears a bone snap and the man screams. Tim makes a surprised sound.
“Focus, SB, just get him to the GCPD. Take the bags. I’ll meet you at the Nest on Grace Avenue,” Tim says, still in that whisper that only Kon can hear, though it’s a little difficult to under the constant whimpering coming from the john.
Kon drops the guy on the ground and walks over to Tim. He offers him a hand, which Tim accepts and lets himself be pulled up. He wraps his arms around himself though, and keeps pressed back against the wall.
“Are you okay?” Kon asks, trying to sound like a concerned superhero and not a worried best friend.
“M’okay,” Tim replies, his voice and demeanour shaky.
“You got a clinic or something you can go to, somewhere safe?”
Tim just nods.
“Alright, I’ll take care of this asshole. You head to a clinic, unless you wanna come testify?”
“No, no I can’t. They’ll arrest me for even being here...”
“If you’re sure?”
“I’m sure. And... thank you, Superboy.”
Kon huffs a laugh under his breath, “It’s what I do.”
He turns around and picks up the guy, along with the garment bags full of bloodied clothes, and heads to the police station.
~
By the time Conner’s finished the the GCPD and flown at super speed back to Tim’s “nest”, Tim is just pulling a small, unassuming black motorcycle into the underground parking area. Kon checks that there’s no cameras down there, and when he turns up only one at the entrance he buzzes by it so quick it won’t catch him, and lands down as Tim is climbing off the bike.
He’s still in the ripped jeans, but he’s covered the singlet with a long sleeved tee, and he’s got a coat over the top, long enough that it comes down to mid thigh and makes the jeans seem slightly less obscene.
“Oh. You’re here.” Tim doesn’t startle, but there’s still something unsettled about the way he looks at Kon.
“Yeah, you did tell me it was cool to be,” Kon shrugs and tilts his head a little, looking at Tim consideringly.
Tim doesn’t reply. just activates the security system on his bike and heads toward the a set of stairs, Kon follows and they make their way up to the ninth floor, pushing through a door into the lobby of the building and then Tim pulls out his keys and opens the door to his apartment, waiting for Conner to go through before closing it behind him.
Tim crouches down and starts unlacing his boots, so Kon toes off his shoes before walking properly into the apartment. He heads over to the kitchen bench and leans against it, watching Tim out of the corner of his eyes.
He frowns when he notices Tim’s hands are shaking as he slips out of the boots.
“Tim?” Kon keeps his voice soft.
“Yes, Conner?” Tim doesn’t even look at him.
“Your hands are shaking.”
Tim makes this sound, a little growl that’s somewhere between annoyed and upset, and he picks up the boots, gripping them tightly before heading to his bedroom and dropping them on the floor there.
Kon follows, “Dude, are you okay?”
“Of course I am,” Tim answers dismissively, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Uh..” Kon makes a face, “because you were just undercover as a prostitute and got picked up by a perverted murderer.”
Tim shrugs and turns away, peeling the shirt over his head before bending over to take off his socks. Kon can hear his heart beating though, way too fast, and Tim’s barely breathing, only taking shallow little gasps of air.
“Tim, dude, would you talk to me?” Kon presses the issue again, walking closer to Tim and reaching out to lay a hand on his arm.
Tim twists out of his reach, and he actually stumbles, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed; staring at his shaking hands.
“Hey--” Kon starts, gently, but Tim’s quiet voice cuts him off.
“I hate it. I know it’s for the mission, and it’s important and at least I didn’t have to dress like a girl...” Tim trails off for a moment, and clenches his hands into fists, not looking at Kon as he speaks. “But I hate it. I feel wrong all over, like my skin’s going to be dirty forever. I wish I could just stop, but then it’d leave people in danger and I can’t do that either.”
Tim goes silent, rubbing his left hand over the back of his right wrist, like he’s trying to scrub himself clean and his breathing is still shallow and quick. Kon sits down on the bed next to him, knocking his knee lightly against Tim’s.
“Oh, Tim.”
Tim pulls his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and he looks so tiny and scared that Kon can’t help but rest his hand between Tim’s shoulders in a comforting gesture.
“I hate how they look at me, how they touch me and I just want to scrub all my skin off but even that wouldn’t help. I’d still feel dirty, still feel their hands on me.” Tim takes a few shaky breaths and Kon starts rubbing little circles on his back, trying to keep him calm. It only works a little, and when Tim starts speaking again it’s almost bordering on panic. “I shouldn’t complain, it’s not like I even have to.. have to do anything aside from stand in the street and get picked up. So many people have it so much worse, they don’t have a choice. Those people that died...”
Tim stops talking with a small, distressed noise and Kon strokes his hand firmly over Tim’s back.
“You’re a fucking hero, you know that? I mean.. the stuff I do; punching monsters and evil aliens who want to take over the world, that’s different. I’m just saving the world, you’re saving people, not just keeping them alive but making their lives better. I don’t...” Kon makes a thoughtful noise and shrugs, “I think it’s all kinds of brilliant, what you do.”
Tim turns his head to look at Kon, with a soft, slightly incredulous incredulous expression.
“What?” Kon suddenly feels sheepish after admitting all that.
“Sometimes I forget that you actually have a brain,” Tim answers in a flat tone that Kon can only recognize as teasing because he knows Tim so well.
“It’s all part of a ruse, I’m tricking everyone into thinking I’m an idiot so they don’t expect too much of me.”
Tim laughs, it’s a only quiet chuckle, but Kon counts it as a victory and he squeezes Tim’s shoulder before moving his hand away.
“I need a shower.”
“You kinda do, you smell like cigarettes and fake tan.”
Tim scowls at him and rubs his cheek with his palm before standing up and heading to the ensuite bathroom, closing the door and Kon hears the rustle of clothes, and a weird, slight tearing sound as Tim works off the wig. Then the water’s running and the sound of Tim’s breathing is drowned out by the water.
Kon stands up and heads into the kitchen; he puts on a pot of coffee and pulls two mugs out of the cupboard. He bangs around Tim’s kitchen for a bit, because he’s pretty sure Tim probably hasn’t eaten tonight so he pulls out a frying pan, grabs cheese, ham and tomato from the fridge and bread from the pantry and starts making toasted sandwiches.
By the time Tim’s out of the shower, his skin flushed red from having the water too hot, and dressed in loose jeans and an old faded, Superboy shirt. Kon laughs when he sees him, and Tim smirks at him, picking absently at the faded ‘S’ shield.
“You’re cooking.” Tim comments as he pours them both a cup of coffee, adding a little bit of milk to his own and leaving Conner’s black.
“Just toasties, I’m not exactly a world class chef,” Kon replies as he grabs a plate out of the cupboard and sets two sandwiches on them, handing the plate to Tim; who hops up on the kitchen bench and peers at the sandwiches consideringly.
“Hn.”
“I promise they’re not poisoned,” Kon grins and turns off the stove.
Tim blows on the sandwich until it’s cool enough to eat and then takes a bite. He chews, thoughtfully and then swallows.
And starts choking. His hand at his throat for maximum effort.
Kon just raises an eyebrow, “You know I can see that there’s nothing stuck in your throat, right?”
Tim stops choking and gives Kon a tiny smile before taking another bite. He hums and follows it with a sip of coffee, “It’s not bad.”
“It’s pretty hard to screw up cheese toasties.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you managed somehow.”
“At least I didn’t try to cook them with heat vision, I probably would’ve melted your kitchen.”
Tim stares at him blankly, and then without comment he jumps down from the bench and takes his plate and mug and goes to sit on the couch. Kon pours himself his own mug of coffee and sits down next to Tim. They sit in silence for a while, Tim eating his food and Kon absently listening in to snatches of conversations that are going on in the building.
“Still want me to go?” Kon asks, now that Tim’s calmed down, he figures Tim’ll want him out of his hair.
Tim doesn’t answer for a little while, he just turns on the TV and flicks through the channels until he finds one of those terrible telenovas that Kon can’t stand the appeal of, even if Tim says he’s laughing at them.
Tim turns to him eventually, and he’s smiling, “You can stay.”