Fic: "Take The Ride", part 3, SV/DCU, Tim/Kon/Bart, Bruce/Clark, Adult
I've been away. All coughy and fever-brain. This is what it is. Kon POV. I owe comments.
Previous parts here.
Title: Take The Ride, part 3
Author: Romany
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Tim/Kon/Bart, Bruce/Clark, Clark/Lois
Rating: Adult, NC-17
Length: 5592 words
Spoilers: some mild ones for old events
Warnings: slash, humor, angst, no continuity (none, nada, zilch)
Disclaimer: Not mine, seriously. All belongs to DC Comics, CW/WB and Al & Miles.
A/N: This Bart is definitely a Smallville version.
Summary: Sometimes things really are what you think. Things to be learned. Lessons to be had.
So they get back to the manor way the fuck early because the day has just gone from one disaster to another. First the joke thing that Clark and Bruce had pulled, so not funny with the getting his hopes up that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't Luthor spawn after all. But no, the Big Gay Love turned out to be a whole lot of nothing, just two straight dudes having one on because Bart had to open his smartass mouth and fuck with him. Which okay, but Tim, you know, who knows everything, had to back him up with the whole tragic love story crap so that Kon was all with the believing and so ready to join the Gay Straight Alliance and PFLAG or whatever and be all, like, proud of his two hot-ass dads, two heroes, being all hot-ass with each other. And so what if that sounded butt-fuck crazy? It's not like his life wasn't butt-fuck crazy already.
But no, Kon's still the product of some plot, no test tube of pure love for him. Sucks. But he's a big boy, he can deal, he can be cool.
So they get to the Mile, right? Get the corn dogs, ride on the just plain sad roller coaster a few times. Chicks everywhere. But do Tim and Bart help with the schmoozing? No, they do not. No, they hang back, looking all sullen and lame, acting like anti-chick magnets, chick repellent, so that Kon has to do all the work. Which he does, thank you so much, all by himself. Scores three babes, one for each of them because he's all magnanimous like that. Because these are his buds and good times must be had.
Do those two get with the program? Fuck no. They like leave and shit and Kon has to follow. So here he is, seventeen, at least biology-wise, and still not laid. As in ever. Dude, even second-base is an intellectual concept to him. And okay, Cassie, which he's maybe sort of boyfriend-girlfriend with. But he's got to know something when he makes the move and not be a complete doofus. Because what if he's uncool and lame and she just laughs at him for having absolutely no skill-set whatsoever?
This day will go down in his personal history as pure suck. Suckitudinous.
At least Tim forked over the cash for the corn dogs like he said he would. Kon used to have corporate sponsors and now he's got an allowance. The Kents, you know, good people and he loves them, but they act like five dollars is a big freaking deal and give him the Wilford Brimley lecture about the value of a dollar. Because they're old and come from a time when they had new-fangled things like televisions and cars. He used to live the high life in Hawaii and now he's all Little House on the Prairie. Which, according to Clark, is the only way to go. But he's not Clark, never will be, no matter how hard he tries. Always falls short.
Funny, but his whole corporate sponsor thing, which was a great idea, by the way, at least in theory, should have been his first clue that he's Luthor spawn. But he doesn't have a Luthor brain or a Wayne brain, not even a Clark brain. Clark might act all homespun and humble-pie, but he writes like poetry and novels in his spare time, all intelligent and good shit that mostly goes over Kon's head. And he tried the poetry thing once, but he burned it in horror with the heat vision when he actually read it to himself after, because he has like some common sense and wouldn't inflict that crap on villains let alone Cassie.
He should just go home and jerk off. Now that's a skill he's perfected.
So they're dragging their three lame asses up the stairs, not saying much, because Tim and Bart seem to have this silent agreement that Kon's the one who's ruined their guys' day out and not the other way around. Most of the lights are off in the house. They get upstairs and there's music coming from the master bedroom and the door's closed and there are like these noises. Sex noises. They, meaning Tim and Bart and him, just sort of stand there and blink at each other.
"I am so not falling for that a second time," he says, voice all whispery for no freaking reason. "Seriously, that's just insulting."
Bart and Tim just shake their heads and go into Tim's room. But Kon hangs back because, dude, those noises sound so real and how the fuck are they doing that? You know, without actually doing that? So he gets his inner x-ray specs going, screw privacy because they're probably in there yucking it up again, and holy fucking shit! Just...Jesus, that's exactly what they're doing. Exactly.
He's got an excellent view since they're all side-angle on the bed, sheets every which way. But it's not like they're under them or anything because they're both on their knees. And wow, it's a whole world of weird because it's Clark that's pounding into Bruce. It's Clark that's holding Bruce up, face pulled to the side so they can kiss while they're doing it. All sweaty and just into it. So into it that they probably didn't even hear the three of them come back. So not performing at all. Just all intense and in their own little world.
Oh. My. God.
Because Kon's not exactly backing away with the ew and shrivelly here. He's not running and screaming into Tim's room, slamming the door behind him with the Save Me, I'm So Scarred crap. No, he's just standing there, mouth open, staring at The Gay. And not in a deer in headlights or traffic accident way either.
It's hotter than shit. Hot. Like in a porn kind of way. Hotter than the internet porn he downloaded that one time, that just sort of had this mega-virus attached to it and kind of crashed the Kents' computer. Big time as in deader than dead. He ended up having to muck up the stables all by himself for a month for that one. As well as hear the 'it's different when two people love each other' talk. Repeatedly.
Oh fuck. He's so, so, so screwed.
Bruce isn't just taking it, he's saying stuff, all encouraging. Who the fuck knew that Mr. Stern and Stoic, who acted like stringing five words together was breaking the word bank for the day and who would just fuck your shit up as soon as look at you, would be a talker. Not just a talker, but a babbler. Kon recognizes some of the Japanese, you know, from Hawaii, but the other words... Jesus, that's Kryptonian flying out of his mouth. Serious sex shit Kryptonian. And Kon didn't even know those words existed, that they're even possible. He shouldn't even recognize them.
But his body sure the fuck does. Those words just crawl into his ear and go straight down to his balls. He feels like running off into the night and screwing anything that's not nailed down. Hard as a freaking rock.
And these words aren't meant for him. He's just a by-stander, you know. Clark's the one who's going freaking nuts, nuts at the speed of molasses, all slow and tender and responding. Saying those words back. All 'lover' and 'warrior' and 'brother'. All 'always' and 'forever'. Just downright nasty with all the body parts too. Nasty and romantic. Romantiporn.
Shit. He's just a whole world of messed-up right now because that's Clark in there and Kon's getting turned-on, majorly, watching him screw Bruce up the ass and Bruce with the loving of said screwing.
They have a word for that and it starts with the letter 'I'. And he's kind of familiar with that one already because he's made tasteless, even to himself tasteless, comments in public about Power Girl's breasts. And she's like his cousin one dimension removed or something. His cousin. And he hasn't figured out the exact genetic math with Clark yet, but whatever it is, they're a whole lot more related than that.
This, what he's doing right now? This is just like going into his parents', if he had parents, room while they're going at it and saying, "Can I watch?" Completely not normal sex education and flat out wrong.
There is such a thing as a three-bag ugly Kryptonian. He's seen a few of them in the Zone. Put a bunch of them together and they average out just like humans do. Some beautiful and some not in a million years, just breed with each other, okay? looking ones. But none of those have made it to Earth because the few that are on Earth are House of El. El is like the Hot House, hothouse of Kryptonian gorgeousness. Of which Kon got those genes. Not to brag or anything, but he's a looker and then some.
Except he's kind of made of fail in a whole lot of other ways. Like this. Freaking pervert.
But the alternative is just as bad. And scarier.
Because those rippling muscles in Clark's back? That's how ripped he'll look in a few years. And Bruce? When Tim hits his prime and buffs out, he'll look a hell of lot like that too. Just as freaking smart and scary and hot and...
Oh crappity crappity crappity crap. His bud. Nonononono just no.
Any second now, Tim's going to pop his head out the door, have that concerned look on his face, wondering if Kon spontaneously combusted in the hallway or something. And Kon's just going to plant one on him, hump his freaking leg. He can't do that. Tim deserves better than the half-breed village idiot of the House of El. Way better.
So he's got to get this under control, under wraps. Think of something disgusting. Something not Krypto...Oh, Krypto. His dog. Okay, that did it. Phew. He's all down boy and cool now.
He takes a breath, wipes the sweat from his palms on his jeans, and steps inside Tim's room. To hang with his buds. Just hang.
But he can't help the satisfied smirk on his face when he flops down on Tim's bed with a little "Ha!"
Tim's sitting in the chair by his desk. Bart's just sitting on the floor. And before Bart can say, "Dude, what took you so long?" Kon just busts out. In a good way.
"Okay, share with the rest of the class," Bart says. "You didn't think it was so funny before--"
Kon does the fake buff and polish with his nails, scrapes them on his shirt. "Score one for the S-boys," he says. And then whistles innocently.
Bart just looks annoyed. "Cryptic much?"
Kon smiles, rolls to his side and leans up on his elbow. "For your information, Batman does take it up the ass. Clark's so the man." He doesn't bother to add that, from what little his surge of hormones out there could gather of the sex shit conversation, he'd observed just a bit of round two or maybe even three and that Bruce and Clark were mixing it up a little, all equitable. Little Flash here doesn't need to know that.
Bart's eyes just get big. "You're shitting me. No freaking way!"
"The eyes don't lie," is all Kon says. "Tab A, Slot B." He takes his elbow hand, forms a ring with his fingers, puts one finger from the other through that ring and out again. "Simple physics. And fucking. As in Clark's giving it good." He thrusts his hips a little for emphasis. "Yeah, that's right. Take it!"
So he's on his knees now, legs spread, hands behind his head and elbows out, doing the porn moves and getting into it, making those boom-chicka-wow-wow sounds. He's getting into it so he takes off his shirt, rubs his chest a little, throws his head back, getting down with the gyration.
But no one's laughing. No one's telling him to get over himself and to put his stupid shirt back on. No one's saying ew. The room's just scary quiet.
He opens his eyes and Tim and Bart are both just staring at him. Like staring. And not in a shock-horror kind of way. But in a why don't you keep going kind of way. Like he's forcing them to do that or something, like he's some enormous cocktease and maybe they resent it a little. But if he unzips right now, they're not going to stop him, just blame him later.
Oh. Maybe he owes Peej a big old apology. Because this is something short of nice. This isn't the love-fest that's going on across the hall. This is sex and he's just a slab of Kryptomeat on a stick.
So he slumps a little, twists his shirt in his hands so it's all messed up, and says, "Oh," out loud.
Both Bart and Tim look away, look anywhere but at him. And things just get that much more complicated. He knows that he should say something, anything, something stupid. He's good at that. These are his buds, his pals, and is this why they hang with him? Really?
He sits on the edge of the bed. He doesn't put his shirt back on. Why bother?
The rooms still scary quiet and Kon really wants to be anywhere but here right now, awkward, so he opens up his ears to maybe hear if Clark and Bruce are still going at it.
But he doesn't hear the sex noises anymore. They're done. What he hears is Clark crying. Not in a girly sobby kind of way, all loud, but quiet. Like a guy's allowed to do sometimes. And Bruce, he's not pulling the cold shoulder, telling him to buck up and be a man. No, he's all whispery with the comfort. He's not so good at it either, but Kon can tell that he's trying, even if his comfort gears are all rusty. He's dancing around the big words, like he can't physically say them, but what he does say basically says the same freaking thing. All negative space to emphasize the positive.
So his way off the mark comments earlier, about the beautiful man-love, aren't so off the mark after all. Because Bruce's whispers are how It's All About Clark, how he'd rather chew his left arm off than see him in this kind of pain. He doesn't use the L-word, but it's there, in every whisper. And it's not the L-word as in Lois, which is a big, huge freaking issue and that's what they're talking about right now, but the other L-word. Same number of letters, just ends in an 'e' and has a 'v' in it.
Bruce might screw around as the ooh I'm so mysterious with my little smile Tim hinted at earlier, but Clark's the One. Man, he's the freaking One. This is just a bucketload of pain that's crawling in his buttinsky ears right now. Forget the bucket, call it a boat. Just a whole world of hurt. On all sides. Because this isn't fair to Lois. Like at all. Clark's married. And maybe he had some kind of one-time pass, non-renewable. Kon just can't see Clark doing anything like this without checking in at home first. But this is it. This is all they get.
Which, when he thinks about it, is maybe how Bruce rolls. Be all I can't have this and I'll just love you from afar like a Knight of the Round Table deal and never say a fucking thing. Pain is my life and all that goth crap. Which, yeah, Gotham. Makes sense. But it's not one-sided. Mr. Sunshiny Metropolis is in there with the Me Too.
And dude, they've done the deed now. Several deeds. Like all of them. Because they had to cram the whole menu into these few hours. That restaurant's going to get all boarded up. Now. Time's up. Clark will go home and Bruce will go down and sit in the Cave and go out and kick some serious ass. Life sucks and Kon kind of feels sorry for anybody that Batman catches doing anything close to iffy tonight. Teeth meet boot. Boot meet teeth. And Tim'll be there with the dental plan pamphlets. Or not. Whatever Bruce says goes. At least out there.
So what happens when they're like in space and shit, the world's ending, and everyone's going down in flames? These two are just going to be with the handshake? Not. They're going to be all Last Kiss or you know, fuck, if they have time. And someone will come through at the last minute, turn off that bomb at 0:02 left to go, turn back Armageddon, and Clark will be just a cheating cheater who cheats. And maybe Bruce will lay into him for that, blame him for being weak, be all Superman can't make mistakes and blah blah blah. Just a complete dick. Clark will be all with the sorry and Bruce will be Bat-goo and they'll do it again. This time without the explosions and the nice knowing you.
Is Clark going to get a divorce? That's a cage match waiting to happen. Lois and Bruce. Let's get ready to rummmble. And Kon's not going to put anything more than even money as to who kicks whose ass to the mat. Verbally, Lois can rip anyone a new one. Even Bruce.
And what is it that everyone's like in love with Clark? When Luthor was all cackly with the 'Kon, I am your father', only without the Vader breathing, he said some weird stuff, all confusing. Which, hey, the point. Go evil and kill all your friends. But not Superman. Because Superman was his. And okay, kind of skeevy, but it didn't really click until Clark was at the farm, getting the old pictures out, trying to help him deal. Trying to be fatherly or big brotherly or half-clony or whatever the fuck they are to each other. And then he got it. Not that he thinks even Clark got it, but Kon sure as shit did.
Luthor went evil because Clark didn't put out. Because the crap that Luthor was saying? Well, not saying exactly, because he says stuff without saying it, all between the lines. He kind of said that once Superman left his evil ways, then they could be all one happy family. Like he knows that that's Clark and family means fucking privileges. Like here Kon, have the remote, Clark and I will just be in the back bedroom over here fucking. Like he wishes Kon really was an ass-baby made the old-fashioned way. Not like there's anything like an ass-baby. He didn't sleep all the way through bio like Bart thinks. But still.
So Clark doesn't put out and people go evil and blow shit up just to get his attention. Why didn't you love me, Clark? They make clones so they can have little Kent-Luthors blowing shit up too. With their freaking eyes. Jesus.
Why does he exist again?
Time to pull out of his head, not the best place to be, and deal with the scary quiet room. It's not like he's even listening to the Lifetime Television moment across the hall anymore anyway. And yeah, he knows what that is, okay? The Kents only get basic cable. So it's time to deal with two friends that not one minute ago were all ready to stuff dollar bills in his low-slungs. Just without the not moving or saying anything. Because hey, he's got the Clark bod and none of the humility to go with it. He knows this.
Or maybe he's just an asshole and they didn't want the TMI play-by-play of the Clark - Bruce action. That's got to be it.
Oh God, his life.
Because contrary to popular opinion, the clue-by-four only has to whack him upside the head five or ten times before it sticks. They're crushing on him and he's not quite sure what to do about that. He's straight. Pretty much. Shit, he doesn't know. He's a tit man, always will be. He'll have to be pretty freaking old for a nice pair not to snag his attention. That's common knowledge. He's pretty vocal about it. But it's not like something on the flatter manly side gags him with the gross either. And nobody knows about that. Nobody.
The boner he popped in the hallway is evidence that he's not completely against the idea.
And he's got a pretty good thing going with Cassie, if it plays out. He can easily see himself five, ten years down the road settling down and popping out a couple of SuperWonder kids with her. Be perfectly happy about it. Be all nuclear family heterosexual agenda. Just, you know, with superpowers. Not be curious, in that way, at all. Come hang out with his bud in Gotham on the occasional day off.
But then history might repeat itself if he does that. Because Tim here might think he's all sly with his orientation, but nobody's jaw's going to hit the floor with the no way if he comes out. Trust him on this. So Kon'll be over here, right? Yeah here, because Bruce will be-not dead, that would kill Tim and Clark-retired or something, so it'll just be Tim and him. And then they'll end up messing around and Kon will be the cheating cheater that cheats. He might be a little on the straight side and Tim on the gay, but it'll happen.
It'll happen because what they have, it's deep. They're connected. The whole 'it's different when two people love each other' thing just might apply here. Not that he's saying that all buds should get down with each other, but maybe he should stop like lying to himself about how this sex-thing isn't there. Because maybe the two dudes across the hall are like a big old fat example of that. Like there's things to be learned, lessons to be had.
Plus there's the whole benefit of getting off. Like right freaking now. Just get over the whole fear factor that Tim just wants to use his sex-ass self until something better, someone smarter, comes along. Be egotistical for real and not all overcompensating because he's decanted, not a real person, all Pinocchio. Not get all agreeing inside when assholes who like to dress up as bats just to make people piss all over themselves call him The Clone to his face. To his face. Just all kinds of disrespect. Just get with the frown and the shutting of doors when he brings his ass over to hang. Hang with Tim who doesn't treat him that way at all. Never has. Doesn't look at him like he's some half-assed Clark from some off-brand copier.
Which, now that he knows Bruce is all with the tragic love story, makes a world of sense.
But the thing is that they're not Clark and Bruce. Because, unless he missed something, there's no Flash equivalent joining in the nasty party with the heap of sad across the way. Bart's a part of this too. And more than he just happens to be in the room with them now way. For all his speedy ways, he grounds them. Just has this smile that lights up the whole room so you can't help but smile too. Vibrant may be all cliché, but it's true. So freaking true. Pulls Tim away from the Winter of My Despondency thing he spirals into sometimes, pulls Kon away from the wack and into reality.
And now that Bart's all aged up and hormonal, he's got a bit of the sex-ass going for him, the little bounce and swagger. The hint of fun.
Besides, Kon's always said that he's dude enough for two. And he so is. He can get with the multi-tasking. Wrap his head around the two guys instead of two girls thing. Wrap his head and some other things.
Time to party down. As soon as he takes care of the scary quiet awkward. Let them know that, yeah, he's available and not skeeved out with the boy-attention.
As soon as he can get them to look at him.
Because Tim's moved away from his desk, all broody with the crossed arms and back against the door. Bart's just sort of slumped on the floor, all un-Flashlike with the not moving.
"Hey," he says. Lame, but it's a start. Or it would be if anybody like responded.
Tim's still with the not looking and what's that all about? He's in shutdown and regroup mode, gears all turning like his world's readjusting and...oh no, serious? Because maybe he's not only reacting to the Kon bod of hot and getting caught looking, but the newsflash that prompted the porn moves. Tim was all cool with the idea of the Bruce and Clark love. But he's not so cool with the practice.
So okay, Kon's heard some of the Batman and Robin jokes. And anyone that makes the mistake of thinking Kon wants to hear it ends up with the TK shove. So not funny. Not that he thinks any of that is true, he'd be the first in line with the Bruce beatdown-and willingly get his ass bat-kicked just to get a punch in-if that were the case. But that doesn't mean that Tim here doesn't have the crush going either. Not that Kon's good with the sharing in that respect, but he can understand it. And maybe it's Clark too. After all, Kon's model B.
But he's not going to get all insecure and jealous. He's going to let Tim know he's there. Two of them, right? And Bart. He can count to three so he's pretty sure Tim can too.
So he stands, all bare-chested, and goes over.
"Hey," he says again, leaning in a bit, bracing one arm against the door by Tim's head. If he's going to come on, he's going to come on strong. "I'm cool with it." And he smiles to show that he is.
Tim just looks at him, doesn't say anything. Great, he wants him to spell it out. A, B, C and freaking D. And maybe since he's been acting like he'd never hop on the clue bus, that's only fair.
"I'm cool with them," Kon says, and he leans in a little more, whispery and breathy, to get his point across. "But I'm way more cool with us."
There. Can't get any more obvious than that, right?
Wrong.
Because Tim looks at him like he's mad now, just in that subtle way of his. "Don't do me any favors," he says. All cold and cool. Except for that small hitch of breath at the end that tells him that maybe, just maybe, Kon should keep on talking.
"No, you'd be doing me one," he says. "Serious." And he leans just a little further in. "Do you know any Kryptonian?" He's just inches away now. Inches. Tim's not exactly meeting him halfway, but he's not stopping him either.
"No, I don't," he says. In Kryptonian. And his accent's flawless, better than Bruce's.
"Really?" Kon says, also in Kryptonian, low, because they're that close now. "So if I say, oh, the words brother/warrior/lover along with fuck, they'd mean absolutely nothing to you."
Tim's eyes go round and his mouth makes this pretty, yes, pretty, he can say that, 'oh' shape, very good for kissing when they get there in a few seconds, before he says, "No, not a thing." And he says that in Kryptonian too.
Oooh, someone's been sneaking into the old man's How To Get A Kryptonian All Bendy If I'd Ever Actually Get Over Myself And Use It database.
"Didn't think so," he says. In English.
So of course, this is when Bart loses it because Kon hasn't exactly gone with the multi-tasking. He's got to work on that.
"I am so out of here," he says. "Jesus. Think I'm just going to sit here and watch you two get all World's Finest Jr.?" But he's not insta-gone so he's not done talking. "Told you, Tim. All you had to do was say the word. And you," he says to Kon, "can never talk about someone gaying up the room again. Ever."
And he stands in a huff, picks up his pack like he's going to speed out of there. End up in South America before he cools down.
Kon puts up the TK wall before he can do that. "I can count to three," he says. "Why can't you?"
And there must be an echo in the room or something because Bart just looks at him, all hurt. "Don't do me any favors," he says.
How? How can these two possibly be on the same page for this? Like Kon's some dickwad who takes advantage? All these feelings flying around the room, sad and hurtful, when they should be getting down to the good sex feelings. What? Like it was better before when he was Mr. Straight and Clueless? Kon with the Gay Clue is evil or something? Come on.
So he just looks from one to the other and he gets it. It wasn't better before, just safer. Safer to crush on someone who they thought wouldn't, you know, crush back. And crush, that's a stupid word. Doesn't mean anything. Just a kid thing like cartoons and Hot Wheels. Okay, maybe not the Hot Wheels. All shallow and not real at all. They've been through too much for that, been on the line.
And if Bruce can't say the L-word, he can. Even if only to himself. Love. None of this like or crush or stupid shit. Love. With lots of sex.
Just what does he do about that? He's got all these feelings too and he's jack at the expressing. Here he is with all these powers and he can't use a single one of them to...
Wait. That's Clark's secret. Why all these people are tripping all over themselves to get to him. It's not the 'Hey, I'm Superman' but the vulnerability. That's what makes hard-asses like Bruce get all fluttery. Because no matter how scary powerful Clark can be, he's just so open. And with Clark, it's not a weak-ass thing at all.
So he lets all these things, these feelings, surface. You know, the fear, the fuck-desire, just lets it all open up until he gets the Ugly Face, all crumply. Not with the crying, because he's still a dude here and not at Clark's level with the okay with that, but close. And the words come out all jumbled.
"You think...I mean...Fuck..."
And bam, they're on him. Just like that. He's got both arms out and one in each. They fall back to the floor, but he's got the TK cushion going, so it's a soft landing. They're just all mouths and hands and, hey, there's a grin and a giggle, there's his Bart. And that sigh, like the world can't get anything more out of him than that, there's his Tim.
So it's a little slobbery and awkward, but they'll get there. They've got time to work out the bumpy noses and whose tongue goes where and who likes what.
He lets his head fall back as Tim and Bart meet in the middle. And as much as he can act like it's all about him, this can't work that way, not with the three of them. Plus it can be hot just to watch a little. Okay, just a little, so he leans up and gets back into it.
Score another one for the S-boys. Is he good or is he good?
Yeah, he's good.
Previous parts here.
Title: Take The Ride, part 3
Author: Romany
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Tim/Kon/Bart, Bruce/Clark, Clark/Lois
Rating: Adult, NC-17
Length: 5592 words
Spoilers: some mild ones for old events
Warnings: slash, humor, angst, no continuity (none, nada, zilch)
Disclaimer: Not mine, seriously. All belongs to DC Comics, CW/WB and Al & Miles.
A/N: This Bart is definitely a Smallville version.
Summary: Sometimes things really are what you think. Things to be learned. Lessons to be had.
So they get back to the manor way the fuck early because the day has just gone from one disaster to another. First the joke thing that Clark and Bruce had pulled, so not funny with the getting his hopes up that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't Luthor spawn after all. But no, the Big Gay Love turned out to be a whole lot of nothing, just two straight dudes having one on because Bart had to open his smartass mouth and fuck with him. Which okay, but Tim, you know, who knows everything, had to back him up with the whole tragic love story crap so that Kon was all with the believing and so ready to join the Gay Straight Alliance and PFLAG or whatever and be all, like, proud of his two hot-ass dads, two heroes, being all hot-ass with each other. And so what if that sounded butt-fuck crazy? It's not like his life wasn't butt-fuck crazy already.
But no, Kon's still the product of some plot, no test tube of pure love for him. Sucks. But he's a big boy, he can deal, he can be cool.
So they get to the Mile, right? Get the corn dogs, ride on the just plain sad roller coaster a few times. Chicks everywhere. But do Tim and Bart help with the schmoozing? No, they do not. No, they hang back, looking all sullen and lame, acting like anti-chick magnets, chick repellent, so that Kon has to do all the work. Which he does, thank you so much, all by himself. Scores three babes, one for each of them because he's all magnanimous like that. Because these are his buds and good times must be had.
Do those two get with the program? Fuck no. They like leave and shit and Kon has to follow. So here he is, seventeen, at least biology-wise, and still not laid. As in ever. Dude, even second-base is an intellectual concept to him. And okay, Cassie, which he's maybe sort of boyfriend-girlfriend with. But he's got to know something when he makes the move and not be a complete doofus. Because what if he's uncool and lame and she just laughs at him for having absolutely no skill-set whatsoever?
This day will go down in his personal history as pure suck. Suckitudinous.
At least Tim forked over the cash for the corn dogs like he said he would. Kon used to have corporate sponsors and now he's got an allowance. The Kents, you know, good people and he loves them, but they act like five dollars is a big freaking deal and give him the Wilford Brimley lecture about the value of a dollar. Because they're old and come from a time when they had new-fangled things like televisions and cars. He used to live the high life in Hawaii and now he's all Little House on the Prairie. Which, according to Clark, is the only way to go. But he's not Clark, never will be, no matter how hard he tries. Always falls short.
Funny, but his whole corporate sponsor thing, which was a great idea, by the way, at least in theory, should have been his first clue that he's Luthor spawn. But he doesn't have a Luthor brain or a Wayne brain, not even a Clark brain. Clark might act all homespun and humble-pie, but he writes like poetry and novels in his spare time, all intelligent and good shit that mostly goes over Kon's head. And he tried the poetry thing once, but he burned it in horror with the heat vision when he actually read it to himself after, because he has like some common sense and wouldn't inflict that crap on villains let alone Cassie.
He should just go home and jerk off. Now that's a skill he's perfected.
So they're dragging their three lame asses up the stairs, not saying much, because Tim and Bart seem to have this silent agreement that Kon's the one who's ruined their guys' day out and not the other way around. Most of the lights are off in the house. They get upstairs and there's music coming from the master bedroom and the door's closed and there are like these noises. Sex noises. They, meaning Tim and Bart and him, just sort of stand there and blink at each other.
"I am so not falling for that a second time," he says, voice all whispery for no freaking reason. "Seriously, that's just insulting."
Bart and Tim just shake their heads and go into Tim's room. But Kon hangs back because, dude, those noises sound so real and how the fuck are they doing that? You know, without actually doing that? So he gets his inner x-ray specs going, screw privacy because they're probably in there yucking it up again, and holy fucking shit! Just...Jesus, that's exactly what they're doing. Exactly.
He's got an excellent view since they're all side-angle on the bed, sheets every which way. But it's not like they're under them or anything because they're both on their knees. And wow, it's a whole world of weird because it's Clark that's pounding into Bruce. It's Clark that's holding Bruce up, face pulled to the side so they can kiss while they're doing it. All sweaty and just into it. So into it that they probably didn't even hear the three of them come back. So not performing at all. Just all intense and in their own little world.
Oh. My. God.
Because Kon's not exactly backing away with the ew and shrivelly here. He's not running and screaming into Tim's room, slamming the door behind him with the Save Me, I'm So Scarred crap. No, he's just standing there, mouth open, staring at The Gay. And not in a deer in headlights or traffic accident way either.
It's hotter than shit. Hot. Like in a porn kind of way. Hotter than the internet porn he downloaded that one time, that just sort of had this mega-virus attached to it and kind of crashed the Kents' computer. Big time as in deader than dead. He ended up having to muck up the stables all by himself for a month for that one. As well as hear the 'it's different when two people love each other' talk. Repeatedly.
Oh fuck. He's so, so, so screwed.
Bruce isn't just taking it, he's saying stuff, all encouraging. Who the fuck knew that Mr. Stern and Stoic, who acted like stringing five words together was breaking the word bank for the day and who would just fuck your shit up as soon as look at you, would be a talker. Not just a talker, but a babbler. Kon recognizes some of the Japanese, you know, from Hawaii, but the other words... Jesus, that's Kryptonian flying out of his mouth. Serious sex shit Kryptonian. And Kon didn't even know those words existed, that they're even possible. He shouldn't even recognize them.
But his body sure the fuck does. Those words just crawl into his ear and go straight down to his balls. He feels like running off into the night and screwing anything that's not nailed down. Hard as a freaking rock.
And these words aren't meant for him. He's just a by-stander, you know. Clark's the one who's going freaking nuts, nuts at the speed of molasses, all slow and tender and responding. Saying those words back. All 'lover' and 'warrior' and 'brother'. All 'always' and 'forever'. Just downright nasty with all the body parts too. Nasty and romantic. Romantiporn.
Shit. He's just a whole world of messed-up right now because that's Clark in there and Kon's getting turned-on, majorly, watching him screw Bruce up the ass and Bruce with the loving of said screwing.
They have a word for that and it starts with the letter 'I'. And he's kind of familiar with that one already because he's made tasteless, even to himself tasteless, comments in public about Power Girl's breasts. And she's like his cousin one dimension removed or something. His cousin. And he hasn't figured out the exact genetic math with Clark yet, but whatever it is, they're a whole lot more related than that.
This, what he's doing right now? This is just like going into his parents', if he had parents, room while they're going at it and saying, "Can I watch?" Completely not normal sex education and flat out wrong.
There is such a thing as a three-bag ugly Kryptonian. He's seen a few of them in the Zone. Put a bunch of them together and they average out just like humans do. Some beautiful and some not in a million years, just breed with each other, okay? looking ones. But none of those have made it to Earth because the few that are on Earth are House of El. El is like the Hot House, hothouse of Kryptonian gorgeousness. Of which Kon got those genes. Not to brag or anything, but he's a looker and then some.
Except he's kind of made of fail in a whole lot of other ways. Like this. Freaking pervert.
But the alternative is just as bad. And scarier.
Because those rippling muscles in Clark's back? That's how ripped he'll look in a few years. And Bruce? When Tim hits his prime and buffs out, he'll look a hell of lot like that too. Just as freaking smart and scary and hot and...
Oh crappity crappity crappity crap. His bud. Nonononono just no.
Any second now, Tim's going to pop his head out the door, have that concerned look on his face, wondering if Kon spontaneously combusted in the hallway or something. And Kon's just going to plant one on him, hump his freaking leg. He can't do that. Tim deserves better than the half-breed village idiot of the House of El. Way better.
So he's got to get this under control, under wraps. Think of something disgusting. Something not Krypto...Oh, Krypto. His dog. Okay, that did it. Phew. He's all down boy and cool now.
He takes a breath, wipes the sweat from his palms on his jeans, and steps inside Tim's room. To hang with his buds. Just hang.
But he can't help the satisfied smirk on his face when he flops down on Tim's bed with a little "Ha!"
Tim's sitting in the chair by his desk. Bart's just sitting on the floor. And before Bart can say, "Dude, what took you so long?" Kon just busts out. In a good way.
"Okay, share with the rest of the class," Bart says. "You didn't think it was so funny before--"
Kon does the fake buff and polish with his nails, scrapes them on his shirt. "Score one for the S-boys," he says. And then whistles innocently.
Bart just looks annoyed. "Cryptic much?"
Kon smiles, rolls to his side and leans up on his elbow. "For your information, Batman does take it up the ass. Clark's so the man." He doesn't bother to add that, from what little his surge of hormones out there could gather of the sex shit conversation, he'd observed just a bit of round two or maybe even three and that Bruce and Clark were mixing it up a little, all equitable. Little Flash here doesn't need to know that.
Bart's eyes just get big. "You're shitting me. No freaking way!"
"The eyes don't lie," is all Kon says. "Tab A, Slot B." He takes his elbow hand, forms a ring with his fingers, puts one finger from the other through that ring and out again. "Simple physics. And fucking. As in Clark's giving it good." He thrusts his hips a little for emphasis. "Yeah, that's right. Take it!"
So he's on his knees now, legs spread, hands behind his head and elbows out, doing the porn moves and getting into it, making those boom-chicka-wow-wow sounds. He's getting into it so he takes off his shirt, rubs his chest a little, throws his head back, getting down with the gyration.
But no one's laughing. No one's telling him to get over himself and to put his stupid shirt back on. No one's saying ew. The room's just scary quiet.
He opens his eyes and Tim and Bart are both just staring at him. Like staring. And not in a shock-horror kind of way. But in a why don't you keep going kind of way. Like he's forcing them to do that or something, like he's some enormous cocktease and maybe they resent it a little. But if he unzips right now, they're not going to stop him, just blame him later.
Oh. Maybe he owes Peej a big old apology. Because this is something short of nice. This isn't the love-fest that's going on across the hall. This is sex and he's just a slab of Kryptomeat on a stick.
So he slumps a little, twists his shirt in his hands so it's all messed up, and says, "Oh," out loud.
Both Bart and Tim look away, look anywhere but at him. And things just get that much more complicated. He knows that he should say something, anything, something stupid. He's good at that. These are his buds, his pals, and is this why they hang with him? Really?
He sits on the edge of the bed. He doesn't put his shirt back on. Why bother?
The rooms still scary quiet and Kon really wants to be anywhere but here right now, awkward, so he opens up his ears to maybe hear if Clark and Bruce are still going at it.
But he doesn't hear the sex noises anymore. They're done. What he hears is Clark crying. Not in a girly sobby kind of way, all loud, but quiet. Like a guy's allowed to do sometimes. And Bruce, he's not pulling the cold shoulder, telling him to buck up and be a man. No, he's all whispery with the comfort. He's not so good at it either, but Kon can tell that he's trying, even if his comfort gears are all rusty. He's dancing around the big words, like he can't physically say them, but what he does say basically says the same freaking thing. All negative space to emphasize the positive.
So his way off the mark comments earlier, about the beautiful man-love, aren't so off the mark after all. Because Bruce's whispers are how It's All About Clark, how he'd rather chew his left arm off than see him in this kind of pain. He doesn't use the L-word, but it's there, in every whisper. And it's not the L-word as in Lois, which is a big, huge freaking issue and that's what they're talking about right now, but the other L-word. Same number of letters, just ends in an 'e' and has a 'v' in it.
Bruce might screw around as the ooh I'm so mysterious with my little smile Tim hinted at earlier, but Clark's the One. Man, he's the freaking One. This is just a bucketload of pain that's crawling in his buttinsky ears right now. Forget the bucket, call it a boat. Just a whole world of hurt. On all sides. Because this isn't fair to Lois. Like at all. Clark's married. And maybe he had some kind of one-time pass, non-renewable. Kon just can't see Clark doing anything like this without checking in at home first. But this is it. This is all they get.
Which, when he thinks about it, is maybe how Bruce rolls. Be all I can't have this and I'll just love you from afar like a Knight of the Round Table deal and never say a fucking thing. Pain is my life and all that goth crap. Which, yeah, Gotham. Makes sense. But it's not one-sided. Mr. Sunshiny Metropolis is in there with the Me Too.
And dude, they've done the deed now. Several deeds. Like all of them. Because they had to cram the whole menu into these few hours. That restaurant's going to get all boarded up. Now. Time's up. Clark will go home and Bruce will go down and sit in the Cave and go out and kick some serious ass. Life sucks and Kon kind of feels sorry for anybody that Batman catches doing anything close to iffy tonight. Teeth meet boot. Boot meet teeth. And Tim'll be there with the dental plan pamphlets. Or not. Whatever Bruce says goes. At least out there.
So what happens when they're like in space and shit, the world's ending, and everyone's going down in flames? These two are just going to be with the handshake? Not. They're going to be all Last Kiss or you know, fuck, if they have time. And someone will come through at the last minute, turn off that bomb at 0:02 left to go, turn back Armageddon, and Clark will be just a cheating cheater who cheats. And maybe Bruce will lay into him for that, blame him for being weak, be all Superman can't make mistakes and blah blah blah. Just a complete dick. Clark will be all with the sorry and Bruce will be Bat-goo and they'll do it again. This time without the explosions and the nice knowing you.
Is Clark going to get a divorce? That's a cage match waiting to happen. Lois and Bruce. Let's get ready to rummmble. And Kon's not going to put anything more than even money as to who kicks whose ass to the mat. Verbally, Lois can rip anyone a new one. Even Bruce.
And what is it that everyone's like in love with Clark? When Luthor was all cackly with the 'Kon, I am your father', only without the Vader breathing, he said some weird stuff, all confusing. Which, hey, the point. Go evil and kill all your friends. But not Superman. Because Superman was his. And okay, kind of skeevy, but it didn't really click until Clark was at the farm, getting the old pictures out, trying to help him deal. Trying to be fatherly or big brotherly or half-clony or whatever the fuck they are to each other. And then he got it. Not that he thinks even Clark got it, but Kon sure as shit did.
Luthor went evil because Clark didn't put out. Because the crap that Luthor was saying? Well, not saying exactly, because he says stuff without saying it, all between the lines. He kind of said that once Superman left his evil ways, then they could be all one happy family. Like he knows that that's Clark and family means fucking privileges. Like here Kon, have the remote, Clark and I will just be in the back bedroom over here fucking. Like he wishes Kon really was an ass-baby made the old-fashioned way. Not like there's anything like an ass-baby. He didn't sleep all the way through bio like Bart thinks. But still.
So Clark doesn't put out and people go evil and blow shit up just to get his attention. Why didn't you love me, Clark? They make clones so they can have little Kent-Luthors blowing shit up too. With their freaking eyes. Jesus.
Why does he exist again?
Time to pull out of his head, not the best place to be, and deal with the scary quiet room. It's not like he's even listening to the Lifetime Television moment across the hall anymore anyway. And yeah, he knows what that is, okay? The Kents only get basic cable. So it's time to deal with two friends that not one minute ago were all ready to stuff dollar bills in his low-slungs. Just without the not moving or saying anything. Because hey, he's got the Clark bod and none of the humility to go with it. He knows this.
Or maybe he's just an asshole and they didn't want the TMI play-by-play of the Clark - Bruce action. That's got to be it.
Oh God, his life.
Because contrary to popular opinion, the clue-by-four only has to whack him upside the head five or ten times before it sticks. They're crushing on him and he's not quite sure what to do about that. He's straight. Pretty much. Shit, he doesn't know. He's a tit man, always will be. He'll have to be pretty freaking old for a nice pair not to snag his attention. That's common knowledge. He's pretty vocal about it. But it's not like something on the flatter manly side gags him with the gross either. And nobody knows about that. Nobody.
The boner he popped in the hallway is evidence that he's not completely against the idea.
And he's got a pretty good thing going with Cassie, if it plays out. He can easily see himself five, ten years down the road settling down and popping out a couple of SuperWonder kids with her. Be perfectly happy about it. Be all nuclear family heterosexual agenda. Just, you know, with superpowers. Not be curious, in that way, at all. Come hang out with his bud in Gotham on the occasional day off.
But then history might repeat itself if he does that. Because Tim here might think he's all sly with his orientation, but nobody's jaw's going to hit the floor with the no way if he comes out. Trust him on this. So Kon'll be over here, right? Yeah here, because Bruce will be-not dead, that would kill Tim and Clark-retired or something, so it'll just be Tim and him. And then they'll end up messing around and Kon will be the cheating cheater that cheats. He might be a little on the straight side and Tim on the gay, but it'll happen.
It'll happen because what they have, it's deep. They're connected. The whole 'it's different when two people love each other' thing just might apply here. Not that he's saying that all buds should get down with each other, but maybe he should stop like lying to himself about how this sex-thing isn't there. Because maybe the two dudes across the hall are like a big old fat example of that. Like there's things to be learned, lessons to be had.
Plus there's the whole benefit of getting off. Like right freaking now. Just get over the whole fear factor that Tim just wants to use his sex-ass self until something better, someone smarter, comes along. Be egotistical for real and not all overcompensating because he's decanted, not a real person, all Pinocchio. Not get all agreeing inside when assholes who like to dress up as bats just to make people piss all over themselves call him The Clone to his face. To his face. Just all kinds of disrespect. Just get with the frown and the shutting of doors when he brings his ass over to hang. Hang with Tim who doesn't treat him that way at all. Never has. Doesn't look at him like he's some half-assed Clark from some off-brand copier.
Which, now that he knows Bruce is all with the tragic love story, makes a world of sense.
But the thing is that they're not Clark and Bruce. Because, unless he missed something, there's no Flash equivalent joining in the nasty party with the heap of sad across the way. Bart's a part of this too. And more than he just happens to be in the room with them now way. For all his speedy ways, he grounds them. Just has this smile that lights up the whole room so you can't help but smile too. Vibrant may be all cliché, but it's true. So freaking true. Pulls Tim away from the Winter of My Despondency thing he spirals into sometimes, pulls Kon away from the wack and into reality.
And now that Bart's all aged up and hormonal, he's got a bit of the sex-ass going for him, the little bounce and swagger. The hint of fun.
Besides, Kon's always said that he's dude enough for two. And he so is. He can get with the multi-tasking. Wrap his head around the two guys instead of two girls thing. Wrap his head and some other things.
Time to party down. As soon as he takes care of the scary quiet awkward. Let them know that, yeah, he's available and not skeeved out with the boy-attention.
As soon as he can get them to look at him.
Because Tim's moved away from his desk, all broody with the crossed arms and back against the door. Bart's just sort of slumped on the floor, all un-Flashlike with the not moving.
"Hey," he says. Lame, but it's a start. Or it would be if anybody like responded.
Tim's still with the not looking and what's that all about? He's in shutdown and regroup mode, gears all turning like his world's readjusting and...oh no, serious? Because maybe he's not only reacting to the Kon bod of hot and getting caught looking, but the newsflash that prompted the porn moves. Tim was all cool with the idea of the Bruce and Clark love. But he's not so cool with the practice.
So okay, Kon's heard some of the Batman and Robin jokes. And anyone that makes the mistake of thinking Kon wants to hear it ends up with the TK shove. So not funny. Not that he thinks any of that is true, he'd be the first in line with the Bruce beatdown-and willingly get his ass bat-kicked just to get a punch in-if that were the case. But that doesn't mean that Tim here doesn't have the crush going either. Not that Kon's good with the sharing in that respect, but he can understand it. And maybe it's Clark too. After all, Kon's model B.
But he's not going to get all insecure and jealous. He's going to let Tim know he's there. Two of them, right? And Bart. He can count to three so he's pretty sure Tim can too.
So he stands, all bare-chested, and goes over.
"Hey," he says again, leaning in a bit, bracing one arm against the door by Tim's head. If he's going to come on, he's going to come on strong. "I'm cool with it." And he smiles to show that he is.
Tim just looks at him, doesn't say anything. Great, he wants him to spell it out. A, B, C and freaking D. And maybe since he's been acting like he'd never hop on the clue bus, that's only fair.
"I'm cool with them," Kon says, and he leans in a little more, whispery and breathy, to get his point across. "But I'm way more cool with us."
There. Can't get any more obvious than that, right?
Wrong.
Because Tim looks at him like he's mad now, just in that subtle way of his. "Don't do me any favors," he says. All cold and cool. Except for that small hitch of breath at the end that tells him that maybe, just maybe, Kon should keep on talking.
"No, you'd be doing me one," he says. "Serious." And he leans just a little further in. "Do you know any Kryptonian?" He's just inches away now. Inches. Tim's not exactly meeting him halfway, but he's not stopping him either.
"No, I don't," he says. In Kryptonian. And his accent's flawless, better than Bruce's.
"Really?" Kon says, also in Kryptonian, low, because they're that close now. "So if I say, oh, the words brother/warrior/lover along with fuck, they'd mean absolutely nothing to you."
Tim's eyes go round and his mouth makes this pretty, yes, pretty, he can say that, 'oh' shape, very good for kissing when they get there in a few seconds, before he says, "No, not a thing." And he says that in Kryptonian too.
Oooh, someone's been sneaking into the old man's How To Get A Kryptonian All Bendy If I'd Ever Actually Get Over Myself And Use It database.
"Didn't think so," he says. In English.
So of course, this is when Bart loses it because Kon hasn't exactly gone with the multi-tasking. He's got to work on that.
"I am so out of here," he says. "Jesus. Think I'm just going to sit here and watch you two get all World's Finest Jr.?" But he's not insta-gone so he's not done talking. "Told you, Tim. All you had to do was say the word. And you," he says to Kon, "can never talk about someone gaying up the room again. Ever."
And he stands in a huff, picks up his pack like he's going to speed out of there. End up in South America before he cools down.
Kon puts up the TK wall before he can do that. "I can count to three," he says. "Why can't you?"
And there must be an echo in the room or something because Bart just looks at him, all hurt. "Don't do me any favors," he says.
How? How can these two possibly be on the same page for this? Like Kon's some dickwad who takes advantage? All these feelings flying around the room, sad and hurtful, when they should be getting down to the good sex feelings. What? Like it was better before when he was Mr. Straight and Clueless? Kon with the Gay Clue is evil or something? Come on.
So he just looks from one to the other and he gets it. It wasn't better before, just safer. Safer to crush on someone who they thought wouldn't, you know, crush back. And crush, that's a stupid word. Doesn't mean anything. Just a kid thing like cartoons and Hot Wheels. Okay, maybe not the Hot Wheels. All shallow and not real at all. They've been through too much for that, been on the line.
And if Bruce can't say the L-word, he can. Even if only to himself. Love. None of this like or crush or stupid shit. Love. With lots of sex.
Just what does he do about that? He's got all these feelings too and he's jack at the expressing. Here he is with all these powers and he can't use a single one of them to...
Wait. That's Clark's secret. Why all these people are tripping all over themselves to get to him. It's not the 'Hey, I'm Superman' but the vulnerability. That's what makes hard-asses like Bruce get all fluttery. Because no matter how scary powerful Clark can be, he's just so open. And with Clark, it's not a weak-ass thing at all.
So he lets all these things, these feelings, surface. You know, the fear, the fuck-desire, just lets it all open up until he gets the Ugly Face, all crumply. Not with the crying, because he's still a dude here and not at Clark's level with the okay with that, but close. And the words come out all jumbled.
"You think...I mean...Fuck..."
And bam, they're on him. Just like that. He's got both arms out and one in each. They fall back to the floor, but he's got the TK cushion going, so it's a soft landing. They're just all mouths and hands and, hey, there's a grin and a giggle, there's his Bart. And that sigh, like the world can't get anything more out of him than that, there's his Tim.
So it's a little slobbery and awkward, but they'll get there. They've got time to work out the bumpy noses and whose tongue goes where and who likes what.
He lets his head fall back as Tim and Bart meet in the middle. And as much as he can act like it's all about him, this can't work that way, not with the three of them. Plus it can be hot just to watch a little. Okay, just a little, so he leans up and gets back into it.
Score another one for the S-boys. Is he good or is he good?
Yeah, he's good.