Not “Kon” Conner (Part Four)
Title: Not “Kon” Conner (Part Four)
Author: Wisia
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the DC universe.
Rating: T
Summary: Conner Kent was pulled from his world into the DC universe. Getting home was going to be hard. And Red Robin only made that even harder. Very loosely based on astolat’s Reconcilable Differences/Lazarus.
Pairings: Tim/Conner
Warnings: Uh…how do I describe it? Questionable things going on and sex. Maybe straying toward dubious consent slightly?
Author’s Note: I don’t know what happened with this chapter. Honestly. These characters have a mind of their own, and I don’t know how Conner ended up like that. And I feel like the writing style is becoming weird…oh, and renaming them as “parts” instead of “chapters” because I’m pretty sure the length I write at doesn’t qualify as a chapter. And TT! Four parts in and only one kiss.
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Conner didn’t see Tim in the morning. The man was gone. Again. Doing another disappearing stint. And it made Conner felt as if he dreamt the entire thing, but that was bullshit because everything about this felt like a dream. Or some sort of deranged surrealism. And he knew he didn’t dream up whatever the hell happened last night because there were bloody bandages in the bathroom trash can and the bottle of painkillers was still in the bathtub where Tim had thrown it.
And the man even left waffles! In the kitchen. As if he didn’t ask Conner to make a horrible choice between Luthor and him. He had stabbed at the waffles angrily, trying to sort it out. Because Tim’s absence meant he had more time. To decide. To figure out what to do. But instead, he thought of the long jagged wound. The man shouldn’t be out so fast. So soon. And Conner hoped he wasn’t bleeding everywhere.
Conner ended up waiting. He waited, full up on coffee and watching stupid late night shows. He wanted to talk to Tim. To get it over with. He didn’t want to go to Luthor. But he didn’t want to be a substitute for Superboy either. That just wasn’t healthy or right. He listened to the tick of the clock hanging on the wall. Tim still wasn’t back from wherever the hell he went. He bet it didn’t drive Superboy mad because Superboy could actually listen in on Tim.
He didn’t manage to stay awake. When he woke, he realized he was in a different bedroom. Tim’s bedroom. Untouched. He was extremely relieved by that. As Conner’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, beginning sunlight poking through the curtains in slivers, he noticed Tim.
Tim sat next to the bed, gaze in an entirely blue intensity. One hand gripped the edge of the chair’s seat, and the other hugged his injured side protectively.
“Morning,” he said, addressing Conner’s awakening, voice rough as if he hadn’t slept all night. Conner wondered how long Tim had sat there watching him sleep.
“Morning. Did-are you feeling better?”
The clumsiness of Conner’s words echoed in the room’s stillness. The window was opened, and as the wind blew the curtains to sway, lines of light danced along the wall and Tim’s features.
“This is better than normal,” Tim said, shrugging.
“Better? How is this better?”
“I thought you knew. You read the comics?” He raised an eyebrow as if Conner had been lying.
“It’s a comic-it doesn’t show everything.” Conner pushed the blankets down a little, shuffling till his back rested against the headboard. “I don’t think people want to read five pages of you brushing your teeth with internal monologue.”
Tim laughed. It was low and dark, and Conner remembered.
“You weren’t here when I woke up.”
“Things to do.” Tim waved a hand flippantly. Then, he was serious. “You’ve reached a decision?”
He leaned forward. The motion was a ripple that resembled a predator’s twitch before a pounce. Conner shifted, back pressed more firmly against the headboard.
“You know I never had a choice.”
Conner didn’t. Not when he was Superboy’s counterpart. When he was stuck in this world with only Red Robin for help.
“And you know exactly what kind of person I am,” Tim returned. There was something in the way Tim said it that realized Conner to the fact he did. And it was the third option.
“I do,” Conner said. “What are you going to do about it?”
Because Conner had the hand. The world was a different Earth, but it was similar enough to the original DCU storyline. And Conner had more than an inkling on Tim Drake.
Tim flinched, and Conner was pleased. He could definitely turn this around. He refused to let himself be jerked around by comic characters when he knew it all. But Conner also didn’t have the heart to play games, so he cut straight directly to the point.
“I want proof,” Conner said abruptly. “That you are working on sending me home.”
Tim pursed his lips, calculating. “Acceptable. Now?”
“Later. I don’t think you’ve even slept at all.” Conner eyed the spot where Tim’s hand was still protecting the injury. “As long as you show me.”
Tim nodded. Then, he lifted the blankets and crawled onto the bed. Conner’s eyebrows shot straight up as Tim tucked himself next to Conner’s side.
“Relax,” Tim mumbled amused. “You’re insane if you think I had the energy for that right now.”
Conner huffed. “You’re the one in my bed.”
“My bed,” Tim corrected. He placed his head on Conner’s chest, an arm loosely slung over Conner’s middle. “Now shut up.”
Conner looked down, feeling slightly guilty. The man lost everything and here he was looking like Superboy. And he knew all the man’s secrets. Conner exhaled slowly, tentatively placing a hand on Tim’s head. He smoothed out the locks with his fingers. A “thanks, Kon” slipped out of Tim’s mouth.
“I’m not Kon, you sleepy dumbass,” Conner sighed, but Tim was already fast asleep.
Part Three Part Five