Fic: Small Victories
Title: Small Victories
Characters: Tim Drake, Conner Kent
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 1, 500-ish
Author's Notes: I set out to make this shippy, and it just didn't really happen. So you can just have Kon and Tim being BFF. This is pre-IC, set sometime during the early Teen Titans run.
It’s late - or maybe early - when Tim hears the faint creak on the stairs that means someone is coming down from the bedrooms into the main room. He’s not sure who it is, because Bart would be here already, and most of the other people staying at the Tower right now can fly. Tim puts his laptop down on the coffee table.
“Hey.”
It turns out to be Kon, and Tim files away the fact that he walked, “Hi.”
“You don’t sleep much, do you?” Kon comments as he sits down on the couch next to Tim.
Kon curls his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his bent knees. It’s an oddly childlike gesture, and Tim reminds himself that Conner is just a child, if he’s counting chronologically.
“Bat-training.” Tim gives as an answer, pulling a wry smile from Kon’s lips. He counts it as a victory, because there’s something off about Conner right now, and Tim’s glad for the smile.
“You’d use that an excuse for everything if you could, wouldn’t you?” Kon replies, still wearing that smile.
Tim smiles back, “I’m sorry, Miss. I didn’t write my history essay because I was busy with Bat-training.”
Kon huffs out a laugh, it’s barely more than a breath of air. Its something though, so Tim continues.
“You don’t understand, Officer, I was speeding because I need to get to Bat-training on time.”
The laugh is a little more solid this time, “That would work if you were in the Redbird.”
Tim raises an eyebrow, letting an amused smirk tug at his lips, “Good point.”
There’s no response to that and the smile fades slowly. Tim wants to say something, say anything, but he doesn’t know what to say. Conner isn’t looking at him, he’s staring straight ahead, still curled in on himself. Occasionally, he winces. And Tim frowns as soon as he realizes.
“There’s something wrong?” Tim states, even though it feels more like a question when it comes out of his mouth.
More silence. It stretches out and makes Tim shift, makes him want to get up and do something ridiculous like a handstand on the coffee table, just to get another smile out of Kon.
Eventually... “I wish there was Super-training.”
“You’re having trouble with your powers,” This time it’s meant to be a question but it comes out as a statement.
Conner nods, the lines of his shoulders tense except for the occasional flinch. He stays quiet for a moment, and Tim waits it out.
“I keep-- It’s the hearing. I...” As Kon pauses, trying to find the words, Tim is struck with the urge to hug him. But he doesn’t, because he’s not sure if that’s what Kon wants. “I can control it, most of the time but every time I try to sleep, it’s like it kicks into overdrive.”
“You can’t sleep because of the sound?” Tim asks, proud that he managed to make a question sound like a question.
“No, it’s not--” Kon rubs at his eye, “It’s not that I am hearing things, it’s what I’m hearing.”
That makes Tim pause, an eyebrow quirking in a silent question. He could make a guess; he could make hundreds of guesses, but he has the feeling that Kon wants - needs - to say it.
“There was a kid, dunno how old, it was hard to tell but I knew he was just a kid. He was walking home from work, accidentally stepped out in front of... something, a bus maybe. All I heard was the screech of tires, then a scream and the impact...” Kon makes this little choked sound, and brings his hands up to hide his face.
Tim doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to do either. It feels like an eternity stretching out until he finally makes a decision and rests his hand on Kon’s arm, just above his elbow, wrapping his fingers as far around Kon’s bicep as they’ll go and squeezing gently. He briefly misses a time when Kon didn’t make him feel so tiny, before he reminds himself that Kon’s powers developing made him stronger, made him safer and he suddenly doesn’t mind so much. Kon drops his hands back to his sides, no longer hiding his face.
“I don’t know how... Superman does it. How he sleeps at night when everyone’s screaming.” Kon sighs, deep and tired-sounding. Tim notes the brief pause before ‘Superman’, like Kon wasn’t sure which name to use, but it’s not important right now.
“I think he’s had to learn to block it out, otherwise he’d never be able to sleep.” Tim’s answer feels awkward and fumbling in his mouth. He likes Clark, he’s met Clark, but he doesn’t really know him.
“Ignoring it doesn’t make it go away,” Kon mumbles, his tone bitter.
It almost sounds like an accusation, but Tim realizes it’s not directed at Clark, but at Kon himself.
“You can’t save everyone, Kon,” Tim’s own tone is gentle, he hopes it doesn’t sound patronizing though.
“I should. I’ve got...” Kon gestures at his chest, at the S-shield, at his ‘costume’ shirt that he was obviously sleeping in. Tim makes another note, this one to buy Conner a pair of pajamas.
“You’re not just Superboy, sometimes you have to be Conner,” Tim says, and again it feels like it should be patronizing. It’s not how he means it though, he hopes Kon understands.
Another huff of a laugh, but this one isn’t amused. “Conner Kent’s just a... name. That’s not me.”
Tim nods in understanding and slides his hand down to hold Kon’s hand. Kon squeezes Tim’s hand, hard, but only human-strength hard.
“You need time to be Kon, then?” Tim tries again.
That gets a nod, and another deep sigh, “If I tried to save everyone, I’d end up killing myself from exhaustion. I just... how do I choose who to save?”
“You don’t.” Tim’s answer surprises him a little, mostly at how quickly he found it. Kon looks at him questioningly, and it’s the first time he’s actually looked at Tim, so Tim makes the effort to continue. “You treat it like work. You clock in and you clock out. When you do that is up to you. There’s the big emergencies, obviously, the.. over-time that you don’t get any choice about. But day-to-day, you choose when you’re going to be Superboy, and when you’re going to be Kon. You don’t make a choice each and every time, for each and every person. Otherwise you will end up killing yourself with exhaustion.”
Kon goes quiet again, like he’s processing what Tim’s said. It still makes Tim’s skin itch, Kon being quiet just doesn’t compute. Like Bart being slow. Conner is supposed to be loud and bright. Right now he almost looks small.
“Is that how you do it?” Kon’s looking at Tim again, with a sharp focus that makes Tim far too aware of how close they are, of his hand in Kon’s.
“Most days. But I’m not a meta, or an alien with powers, it’s different for me.” Tim answers, and he feels himself smile, a small, self-deprecating little thing.
It makes Kon nudge Tim’s shoulder with his own. And that makes Tim smile more.
“You’re such a Bat,” Kon teases.
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Tim counters, forcing his smile down to a smirk.
“Dude, of course it is. Bats aren’t normal.”
Tim just shakes his head until Conner grins at him, wide and smug and bright. Tim counts it as another victory. There’s more silence after that, but it doesn’t feel heavy like the silence of before and Kon’s hand in his stops Tim’s skin from itching so much.
Tim’s good at not moving, good at waiting for someone else to make the first move, and that’s what he’s doing now. It’s only when Kon’s grip slackens, when he hears the subtle shift in Kon’s breathing that Tim realizes he’s fallen asleep, his head dropped back against the couch.
Tim lets go of Kon’s hand, smiling to himself as he gets up and gently manhandles Kon so that he’s lying down. Kon grumbles a little in his sleep, stretching and shifting until he’s comfortable and it takes Tim tucking a pillow under his head before Kon finally settles.
He grabs his laptop and curls up in the armchair now that Kon has claimed the couch, alternating between writing his mission report for Bruce and watching Kon sleep.
When Kon moves restlessly a few minutes later, Tim mutters “go back to sleep, Kon-El,” and adds another victory to his tally when Kon does.
Characters: Tim Drake, Conner Kent
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 1, 500-ish
Author's Notes: I set out to make this shippy, and it just didn't really happen. So you can just have Kon and Tim being BFF. This is pre-IC, set sometime during the early Teen Titans run.
It’s late - or maybe early - when Tim hears the faint creak on the stairs that means someone is coming down from the bedrooms into the main room. He’s not sure who it is, because Bart would be here already, and most of the other people staying at the Tower right now can fly. Tim puts his laptop down on the coffee table.
“Hey.”
It turns out to be Kon, and Tim files away the fact that he walked, “Hi.”
“You don’t sleep much, do you?” Kon comments as he sits down on the couch next to Tim.
Kon curls his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his bent knees. It’s an oddly childlike gesture, and Tim reminds himself that Conner is just a child, if he’s counting chronologically.
“Bat-training.” Tim gives as an answer, pulling a wry smile from Kon’s lips. He counts it as a victory, because there’s something off about Conner right now, and Tim’s glad for the smile.
“You’d use that an excuse for everything if you could, wouldn’t you?” Kon replies, still wearing that smile.
Tim smiles back, “I’m sorry, Miss. I didn’t write my history essay because I was busy with Bat-training.”
Kon huffs out a laugh, it’s barely more than a breath of air. Its something though, so Tim continues.
“You don’t understand, Officer, I was speeding because I need to get to Bat-training on time.”
The laugh is a little more solid this time, “That would work if you were in the Redbird.”
Tim raises an eyebrow, letting an amused smirk tug at his lips, “Good point.”
There’s no response to that and the smile fades slowly. Tim wants to say something, say anything, but he doesn’t know what to say. Conner isn’t looking at him, he’s staring straight ahead, still curled in on himself. Occasionally, he winces. And Tim frowns as soon as he realizes.
“There’s something wrong?” Tim states, even though it feels more like a question when it comes out of his mouth.
More silence. It stretches out and makes Tim shift, makes him want to get up and do something ridiculous like a handstand on the coffee table, just to get another smile out of Kon.
Eventually... “I wish there was Super-training.”
“You’re having trouble with your powers,” This time it’s meant to be a question but it comes out as a statement.
Conner nods, the lines of his shoulders tense except for the occasional flinch. He stays quiet for a moment, and Tim waits it out.
“I keep-- It’s the hearing. I...” As Kon pauses, trying to find the words, Tim is struck with the urge to hug him. But he doesn’t, because he’s not sure if that’s what Kon wants. “I can control it, most of the time but every time I try to sleep, it’s like it kicks into overdrive.”
“You can’t sleep because of the sound?” Tim asks, proud that he managed to make a question sound like a question.
“No, it’s not--” Kon rubs at his eye, “It’s not that I am hearing things, it’s what I’m hearing.”
That makes Tim pause, an eyebrow quirking in a silent question. He could make a guess; he could make hundreds of guesses, but he has the feeling that Kon wants - needs - to say it.
“There was a kid, dunno how old, it was hard to tell but I knew he was just a kid. He was walking home from work, accidentally stepped out in front of... something, a bus maybe. All I heard was the screech of tires, then a scream and the impact...” Kon makes this little choked sound, and brings his hands up to hide his face.
Tim doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to do either. It feels like an eternity stretching out until he finally makes a decision and rests his hand on Kon’s arm, just above his elbow, wrapping his fingers as far around Kon’s bicep as they’ll go and squeezing gently. He briefly misses a time when Kon didn’t make him feel so tiny, before he reminds himself that Kon’s powers developing made him stronger, made him safer and he suddenly doesn’t mind so much. Kon drops his hands back to his sides, no longer hiding his face.
“I don’t know how... Superman does it. How he sleeps at night when everyone’s screaming.” Kon sighs, deep and tired-sounding. Tim notes the brief pause before ‘Superman’, like Kon wasn’t sure which name to use, but it’s not important right now.
“I think he’s had to learn to block it out, otherwise he’d never be able to sleep.” Tim’s answer feels awkward and fumbling in his mouth. He likes Clark, he’s met Clark, but he doesn’t really know him.
“Ignoring it doesn’t make it go away,” Kon mumbles, his tone bitter.
It almost sounds like an accusation, but Tim realizes it’s not directed at Clark, but at Kon himself.
“You can’t save everyone, Kon,” Tim’s own tone is gentle, he hopes it doesn’t sound patronizing though.
“I should. I’ve got...” Kon gestures at his chest, at the S-shield, at his ‘costume’ shirt that he was obviously sleeping in. Tim makes another note, this one to buy Conner a pair of pajamas.
“You’re not just Superboy, sometimes you have to be Conner,” Tim says, and again it feels like it should be patronizing. It’s not how he means it though, he hopes Kon understands.
Another huff of a laugh, but this one isn’t amused. “Conner Kent’s just a... name. That’s not me.”
Tim nods in understanding and slides his hand down to hold Kon’s hand. Kon squeezes Tim’s hand, hard, but only human-strength hard.
“You need time to be Kon, then?” Tim tries again.
That gets a nod, and another deep sigh, “If I tried to save everyone, I’d end up killing myself from exhaustion. I just... how do I choose who to save?”
“You don’t.” Tim’s answer surprises him a little, mostly at how quickly he found it. Kon looks at him questioningly, and it’s the first time he’s actually looked at Tim, so Tim makes the effort to continue. “You treat it like work. You clock in and you clock out. When you do that is up to you. There’s the big emergencies, obviously, the.. over-time that you don’t get any choice about. But day-to-day, you choose when you’re going to be Superboy, and when you’re going to be Kon. You don’t make a choice each and every time, for each and every person. Otherwise you will end up killing yourself with exhaustion.”
Kon goes quiet again, like he’s processing what Tim’s said. It still makes Tim’s skin itch, Kon being quiet just doesn’t compute. Like Bart being slow. Conner is supposed to be loud and bright. Right now he almost looks small.
“Is that how you do it?” Kon’s looking at Tim again, with a sharp focus that makes Tim far too aware of how close they are, of his hand in Kon’s.
“Most days. But I’m not a meta, or an alien with powers, it’s different for me.” Tim answers, and he feels himself smile, a small, self-deprecating little thing.
It makes Kon nudge Tim’s shoulder with his own. And that makes Tim smile more.
“You’re such a Bat,” Kon teases.
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing,” Tim counters, forcing his smile down to a smirk.
“Dude, of course it is. Bats aren’t normal.”
Tim just shakes his head until Conner grins at him, wide and smug and bright. Tim counts it as another victory. There’s more silence after that, but it doesn’t feel heavy like the silence of before and Kon’s hand in his stops Tim’s skin from itching so much.
Tim’s good at not moving, good at waiting for someone else to make the first move, and that’s what he’s doing now. It’s only when Kon’s grip slackens, when he hears the subtle shift in Kon’s breathing that Tim realizes he’s fallen asleep, his head dropped back against the couch.
Tim lets go of Kon’s hand, smiling to himself as he gets up and gently manhandles Kon so that he’s lying down. Kon grumbles a little in his sleep, stretching and shifting until he’s comfortable and it takes Tim tucking a pillow under his head before Kon finally settles.
He grabs his laptop and curls up in the armchair now that Kon has claimed the couch, alternating between writing his mission report for Bruce and watching Kon sleep.
When Kon moves restlessly a few minutes later, Tim mutters “go back to sleep, Kon-El,” and adds another victory to his tally when Kon does.